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POEMS 



POEMS 



BY 

GEORGE MEREDITH 



NEW YORK 

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 

1903 



.A' 



COPYRIGHT 1897, 1898, BY 
GEORGE MEREDITH 



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janibETSttg |irrss 
John WilsOn and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. 



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CONTENTS 



Page 

Modern Love 3 

The Sage Enamoured and the Honest Lady 53 

Love is Winged 69 

Ask, is Love Divine 70 

Joy is Fleet 71 

The Lesson of Grief 72 

The Woods of Westermain , 73 

A Ballad of Past Meridian 89 

The Day of the Daughter of Hades 90 

The Lark Ascending Ill 

Phoebus with Admetus 116 

Melampus 121 

Love in the Valley 127 

The Three Singers to Young Blood 136 

The Orchard and the Heath 140 

Earth and Man 143 

A Ballad of Fair Ladies in Revolt 152 

Juggling Jerry 1G8 

The Old Chartist 173 

Martin's Puzzle 179 

Marian 183 

SONNETS 

Lucifer in Starlight 185 

The Star Sirius 186 

Sense and Spirit 187 

Earth's Secret 188 



VI CONTENTS 

Pah 

The Spirit of Shakespeare 189, 190 

Internal Harmony 191 

Grace and Love 192 

Appreciation 193 

The Discipline of Wisdom 194 

The State of Age 195 

Progress 196 

The World's Advance 197 

A Certain People 198 

The Garden of Epicurus 199 

A Later Alexandrian 200 

An Orson of the Muse 201 

The Point of Taste 202 

Camelus Saltat 203, 204 

To J. M 205 

To a Friend Lost 206 

My Theme 207, 208 

Time and Sentiment 209 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 

The Two Masks 211 

Archduchess Anne 212 

The Song of Theodolinda 230 

A Preaching from a Spanish Ballad 237 

The Young Princess 242 

King Harald's Trance 254 

Whimper of Sympathy 258 

Young Reynard 259 

Manfred 260 

Hernani 261 

The Nuptials of Attila 2C2 

Aneurin's Harp 282 

Men and Man 289 

The Last Contention 291 



CONTENTS Vli 

Page 

Periander 294 

Solon 301 

Bellerophon 304 

Phaethon 307 

A READING OF EARTH 

Seed-Time 315 

Hard Weather 318 

The South-Wester 322 

The Thrush in February 327 

The Appeasement of Demeter 334 

Earth and a Wedded Woman 340 

Mother to Babe 343 

Woodland Peace 344 

The Question Whither 345 

Outer and Inner 347 

Nature and Life 349 

Dirge in Woods 350 

A Faith on Trial 351 

Change in Recurrence 372 

Hymn to Colour 374 

Meditation under Stars 379 

Woodman and Echo 382 

The Wisdom of Eld 384 

Earth's Preference 385 

Society 386 

Winter Heavens 387 

Wind on the Lyre 388 

The Youthful Quest 389 

The Empty Purse 390 

Jump-to-Glory Jane 414 

ODES 

To the Comic Spirit 427 

Youth in Memory 440 



Vlll CONTENTS 

VEESES 

Pagk 

Penetration and Trust 449 

Night of Frost in Mat 450 

The Teaching of the Nude 453 

Breath of the Briar 455 

Empedocles 456 

To Colonel Charles 457 

England before the Storm 461 

Tardy Spring 463 

EPITAPHS 

M. M 465 

The Ladt CM 465 

J. C. M 465 

Islet the Dachs 466 

Gordon of Khartoum 466 

The Emperor Frederick of our Time 466 

The Year's Sheddings 467 



THE PROMISE IN DISTURBANCE 

How low when angels fall their black descent, 
Our primal thunder tells : known is the pain 
Of music, that nigh throning wisdom went, 
And one false note cast wailful to the insane. 
Now seems the language heard of Love as rain 
To make a mire where fruitfulness was meant. 
The golden harp gives out a jangled strain, 
Too like revolt from heaven's Omnipotent. 
But listen in the thought ; so may there come 
Conception of a newly-added chord, 
Commanding space beyond where ear has home. 
In labour of the trouble at its fount, 
Leads Life to an intelligible Lord 
The rebel discords up the sacred mount. 



MODERN LOVE 



By this he knew she wept with waking eyes : 

That, at his hand's light quiver by her head, 

The strange low sobs that shook their common bed, 

Were called into her with a sharp surprise, 

And strangled mute, like little gaping snakes, 

Dreadfully venomous to him. She lay 

Stone-still, and the long darkness flowed away 

With muffled pulses. Then, as midnight makes 

Her giant heart of Memory and Tears 

Drink the pale drug of silence, and so beat 

Sleep's heavy measure, they from head to feet 

Were moveless, looking through their dead black years, 

By vain regret scrawled over the blank wall. 

Like sculptured effigies they might be seen 

Upon their marriage-tomb, the sword between ; 

Each wishing for the sword that severs all. 



MODEKN LOVE 



II 

It ended, and the morrow brought the task. 
Her eyes were guilty gates, that let him in 
By shutting all too zealous for their sin : 
Each sucked a secret, and each wore a mask. 
But, oh, the bitter taste her beauty had ! 
He sickened as at breath of poison-flowers : 
A languid humour stole among the hours, 
And if their smiles encountered, he went mad, 
And raged deep inward, till the light was brown 
Before his vision, and the world forgot, 
Looked wicked as some old dull murder-spot. 
A star with lurid beams, she seemed to crown 
The pit of infamy : and then again 
He fainted on his vengefulness, and strove 
To ape the magnanimity of love, 
And smote himself, a shuddering heap of pain. 



MODERN LOVE 



III 

This was the woman ; what now of the man ? 

But pass him. If he comes beneath a heel, 

He shall be crushed until he cannot feel, 

Or, being callous, haply till he can. 

But he is nothing : — nothing ? Only mark 

The rich light striking out from her on him I 

Ha ! what a sense it is when her eyes swim 

Across the man she singles, leaving dark 

All else ! Lord God, who mad'st the thing so fair, 

See that I am drawn to her even now ! 

It cannot be such harm on her cool brow 

To put a kiss ? Yet if I meet him there ! 

But she is mine ! Ah, no ! I know too well 

I claim a star whose light is overcast : 

I claim a phantom-woman in the Past. 

The hour has struck, though I heard not the bell ! 



MODERN LOVE 



IV 

All other joy of life he strove to warm, 
And magnify, and catch them to his lip : 
But they had suffered shipwreck with the ship, 
And gazed upon him sallow from the storm. 
Or if Delusion came, 't was but to show 
The coming minute mock the one that went. 
Cold as a mountain in its star-pitched tent, 
Stood high Philosophy, less friend than foe : 
Whom self-caged Passion, from its prison-bars, 
Is always watching with a wondering hate. 
Not till the fire is dying in the grate, 
Look we for any kinship with the stars. 
Oh, wisdom never comes when it is gold, 
And the great price we pay for it full worth : 
We have it only when we are half earth. 
Little avails that coinage to the old ! 



MODERN LOVE 



A message from her set his brain aflame. 
A world of household matters filled her mind, 
Wherein he saw hypocrisy designed : 
She treated him as something that is tame, 
And but at other provocation bites. 
Familiar was her shoulder in the glass, 
Through that dark rain : yet it may come to pass 
That a changed eye finds such familiar sights 
More keenly tempting than new loveliness. 
The ' What has been ' a moment seemed his own: 
The splendours, mysteries, dearer because known, 
Nor less divine : Love's inmost sacredness, 
Called to him, ' Come ! ' — In his restraining start, 
Eyes nurtured to be looked at, scarce could see 
A wave of the great waves of Destiny 
Convulsed at a checked impulse of the heart. 



MODERN LOVE 



VI 

It chanced his lips did meet her forehead cool. 
She had no blush, but slanted down her eye. 
Shamed nature, then, confesses love can die : 
And most she punishes the tender fool 
Who will believe what honours her the most ! 
Dead ! is it dead ? She has a pulse, and flow 
Of tears, the price of blood-drops, as I know, 
For whom the midnight sobs around Love's ghost, 
Since then I heard her, and so will sob on. 
The love is here ; it has but changed its aim. 
bitter barren woman ! what 's the name ? 
The name, the name, the new name thou hast won ? 
Behold me striking the world's coward stroke ! 
That will I not do, though the sting is dire. 
— Beneath the surface this, while by the fire 
They sat, she laughing at a quiet joke. 






MODERN LOVE 



VII 

She issues radiant from her dressing-room, 

Like one prepared to scale an upper sphere : 

— By stirring up a lower, much I fear ! 

How deftly that oiled barber lays his bloom ! 

That long-shanked dapper Cupid with frisked curls, 

Can make known women torturingly fair ; 

The gold-eyed serpent dwelling in rich hair, 

Awakes beneath his magic whisks and twirls. 

His art can take the eyes from out my head, 

Until I see with eyes of other men ; 

While deeper knowledge crouches in its den, 

And sends a spark up : — is it true we are wed ? 

Yea ! filthiness of body is most vile, 

But faithlessness of heart I do hold worse. 

The former, it were not so great a curse 

To read on the steel-mirror of her smile. 



10 MODERN LOVE 



VIII 

Yet it was plain she struggled, and that salt 

Of righteous feeling made her pitiful. 

Poor twisting worm, so queenly beautiful! 

Where came the cleft between us ? whose the fault ? 

My tears are on thee, that have rarely dropped 

As balm for any bitter wound of mine : 

My breast will open for thee at a sign ! 

But, no : we are two reed-pipes, coarsely stopped : 

The God once filled them with his mellow breath ; 

And they were music till he flung them down, 

Used! used! Hear now the discord-loving clown 

Puff his gross spirit in them, worse than death! 

I do not know myself without thee more : 

In this unholy battle I grow base : 

If the same soul be under the same face, 

Speak, and a taste of that old time restore ! 



MODERN LOVE 11 



IX 

He felt the wild beast in him betweenwhiles 

So masterfully rude, that he would grieve 

To see the helpless delicate thing receive 

His guardianship through certain dark defiles. 

Had he not teeth to rend, and hunger too ? 

But still he spared her. Once : ' Have you no fear ? ' 

He said : 't was dusk ; she in his grasp ; none near. 

She laughed : ' No, surely ; am I not with you ? ' 

And uttering that soft starry ' you,' she leaned 

Her gentle body near him, looking up ; 

And from her eyes, as from a poison-cup, 

He drank until the flittering eyelids screened. 

Devilish malignant witch ! and oh, young beam 

Of heaven's circle-glory ! Here thy shape 

To squeeze like an intoxicating grape — 

I might, and yet thou goest safe, supreme. 



12 MODERN LOVE 



But where began the change ; and what 's my crime ? 

The wretch condemned, who has not been arraigned, 

Chafes at his sentence. Shall I, unsustained, 

Drag on Love's nerveless body thro' all time ? 

I must have slept, since now I wake. Prepare, 

You lovers, to know Love a thing of moods : 

Not like hard life, of laws. In Love's deep woods, 

I dreamt of loyal Life : — the offence is there ! 

Love's jealous woods about the sun are curled; 

At least, the sun far brighter there did beam. — 

My crime is, that the puppet of a dream, 

I plotted to be worthy of the world. 

Oh, had I with my darling helped to mince 

The facts of life, you still had seen me go 

With hindward feather and with forward toe, 

Her much-adored delightful Fairy Prince ! 



MODERN LOVE 13 



XI 

Out in the yellow meadows, where the bee 

Hums by us with the honey of the Spring, 

And showers of sweet notes from the larks on wing, 

Are dropping like a noon-dew, wander we. 

Or is it now ? or was it then ? for now, 

As then, the larks from running rings pour showers : 

The golden foot of May is on the flowers, 

And friendly shadows dance upon her brow. 

What 's this, when Nature swears there is no change 

To challenge eyesight ? Now, as then, the grace 

Of heaven seems holding earth in its embrace. 

Nor eyes, nor heart, has she to feel it strange ? 

Look, woman, in the West. There wilt thou see 

An amber cradle near the sun's decline : 

Within it, featured even in death divine, 

Is lying a dead infant, slain by thee. 



14 MODERN LOVE 



XII 

Not solely that the Future she destroys, 

And the fair life which in the distance lies 

For all men, beckoning out from dim rich skies : 

Nor that the passing hour's supporting joys 

Have lost the keen-edged flavour, which begat 

Distinction in old times, and still should breed 

Sweet Memory, and Hope, — earth's modest seed, 

And heaven's high-prompting : not that the world is flat 

Since that soft-luring creature I embraced, 

Among the children of Illusion went : 

Methinks with all this loss I were content, 

If the mad Past, on which my foot is based, 

"Were firm, or might be blotted : but the whole 

Of life is mixed : the mocking Past will stay : 

And if I drink oblivion of a day, 

So shorten I the stature of my soul. 



MODERN LOVE 15 



XIII 

' I play for Seasons ; not Eternities ! ' 

Says Nature, laughing on her way. ' So must 

All those whose stake is nothing more than dust ! ' 

And lo, she wins, and of her harmonies 

She is full sure ! Upon her dying rose, 

She drops a look of fondness, and goes by, 

Scarce any retrospection in her eye ; 

For she the laws of growth most deeply knows, 

Whose hands bear, here, a seed-bag — there, an urn. 

Pledged she herself to aught, 't would mark her end ! 

This lesson of our only visible friend, 

Can we not teach our foolish hearts to learn ? 

Yes ! yes ! — but, oh, our human rose is fair 

Surpassingly ! Lose calmly Love's great bliss, 

When the renewed for ever of a kiss 

Whirls life within the shower of loosened hair ! 



16 MODERN LOVE 



XIV 

What soul would bargain for a cure that brings 

Contempt the nobler agony to kill ? 

Rather let me bear on the bitter ill, 

And strike this rusty bosom with new stings ! 

It seems there is another veering fit, 

Since on a gold-haired lady's eyeballs pure, 

I looked with little prospect of a cure, 

The while her mouth's red bow loosed shafts of wit. 

Just heaven! can it be true that jealousy 

Has decked the woman thus ? and does her head 

Swim somewhat for possessions forfeited ? 

Madam, you teach me many things that be. 

I open an old book, and there I find, 

That ' Women still may love whom they deceive.' 

Such love I prize not, madam : by your leave, 

The game you play at is not to my mind. 



MODERN LOVE 17 



XV 

I think she sleeps : it must be sleep, when low 

Hangs that abandoned arm toward the floor ; 

The face turned with it. Now make fast the door. 

Sleep on : it is your husband, not your foe. 

The Poet's black stage-lion of wronged love, 

Frights not our modern dames : — well if he did ! 

Now will I pour new light upon that lid, 

Full-sloping like the breasts beneath. < Sweet dove, 

Your sleep is pure. Nay, pardon : I disturb. 

I do not ? good ! ' Her waking infant-stare 

Grows woman to the burden my hands bear : 

Her own handwriting to me when no curb 

Was left on Passion's tongue. She trembles through ; 

A woman's tremble — the whole instrument : — 

I show another letter lately sent. 

The words are very like : the name is new. 



18 MODEEN LOVE 



XVI 

In our old shipwrecked days there was an hour, 
When in the firelight steadily aglow, 
Joined slackly, we beheld the red chasm grow 
Among the clicking coals. Our library-bower 
That eve was left to us : and hushed we sat 
As lovers to whom Time is whispering. 
From sudden-opened doors we heard them sing : 
The nodding elders mixed good wine with chat. 
Well knew we that Life's greatest treasure lay 
With us, and of it was our talk. 'Ah, yes! 
Love dies ! ' I said : I never thought it less. 
She yearned to me that sentence to unsay. 
Then when the fire domed blackening, I found 
Her cheek was salt against my kiss, and swift 
Up the sharp scale of sobs her breast did lift : — 
Now am I haunted by that taste ! that sound ! 



MODERN LOVE 19 



XVII 

At dinner, she is hostess, I am host. 

Went the feast ever cheerf uller ? She keeps 

The Topic over intellectual deeps 

In buoyancy afloat. They see no ghost. 

With sparkling surface-eyes we ply the ball : 

It is in truth a most contagious game : 

Hiding the Skeleton, shall be its name. 

Such play as this, the devils might appal ! 

But here 's the greater wonder ; in that we 

Enamoured of an acting nought can tire, 

Each other, like true hypocrites, admire ; 

Warm-lighted looks, Love's ephemerioe, 

Shoot gaily o'er the dishes and the wine. 

We waken envy of our happy lot. 

Fast, sweet, and golden, shows the marriage-knot. 

Dear guests, you now have seen Love's corpse-light shine. 



20 MODERN LOVE 



XVIII 

Here Jack and Tom are paired with Moll and Meg. 

Curved open to the river-reach is seen 

A country merry-making on the green. 

Fair space for signal shakings of the leg. 

That little screwy fiddler from his booth, 

Whence flows one nut-brown stream, commands the joints 

Of all who caper here at various points. 

I have known rustic revels in my youth : 

The May-fly pleasures of a mind at ease. 

An early goddess was a county lass : 

A charmed Amphion-oak she tripped the grass. 

What life was that I lived ? The life of these ? 

Heaven keep them happy ! Nature they seem near. 

They must, I think, be wiser than I am ; 

They have the secret of the bull and lamb. 

'T is true that when we trace its source, 't is beer. 



MODERN LOVE 



21 



XIX 



No state is enviable. To the luck alone 

Of some few favoured men I would put claim. 

I bleed, but her who wounds I will not blame. 

Have I not felt her heart as 't were my own 

Beat thro' me ? could I hurt her ? heaven and hell ! 

But I could hurt her cruelly ! Can I let 

My Love's old time-piece to another set, 

Swear it can't stop, and must for ever swell ? 

Sure, that 's one way Love drifts into the mart 

Where goat-legged buyers throng. I see not plain : 

My meaning is, it must not be again. 

Great God ! the maddest gambler throws his heart. 

If any state be enviable on earth, 

'T is yon born idiot's, who, as days go by, 

Still rubs his hands before him, like a fly, 

In a queer sort of meditative mirth. 



22 MODERN LOVE 



XI 

I am not of those miserable males 
Who sniff at vice, and, daring not to snap, 
Do therefore hope for heaven. I take the hap 
Of all my deeds. The wind that fills my sails, 
Propels ; but I am helmsman. Am I wrecked, 
I know the devil has sufficient weight 
To bear : I lay it not on him, or fate. 
Besides, he 's damned. That man 1 do suspect 
A coward, who would burden the poor deuce 
With what ensues from his own slipperiness. 
I have just found a wanton-scented tress 
In an old desk, dusty for lack of use. 
Of days and nights it is demonstrative, 
That, like some aged star, gleam luridly. 
If for those times I must ask charity, 
Have I not any charity to give ? 



MODERN LOVE 23 



XXI 

We three are on the cedar-shadowed lawn ; 

My friend being third. He who at love once laughed, 

Is in the weak rib by a fatal shaft 

Struck through, and tells his passion's bashful dawn 

And radiant culmination, glorious crown, 

When ' this ' she said : went ' thus ; : most wondrous she. 

Our eyes grow white, encountering : that we are three, 

Forgetful ; then together we look down. 

But he demands our blessing ; is convinced 

That words of wedded lovers must bring good. 

We question ; if we dare ! or if we should ! 

And pat him, with light laugh. We have not winced. 

Next, she has fallen. Fainting points the sign 

To happy things in wedlock. When she wakes, 

She looks the star that thro' the cedar shakes : 

Her lost moist hand clings mortally to mine. 



24 MODERN LOVE 



XXII 

What may the woman labour to confess ? 

There is about her mouth a nervous twitch. 

'T is something to be told, or hidden : — which ? 

I get a glimpse of hell in this mild guess. 

She has desires of touch, as if to feel 

That all the household things are things she knew. 

She stops before the glass. What sight in view ? 

A face that seems the latest to reveal ! 

For she turns from it hastily, and tossed 

Irresolute, steals shadow-like to where 

I stand ; and wavering pale before me there, 

Her tears fall still as oak-leaves after frost. 

She will not speak. I will not ask. We are 

League-sundered by the silent gulf between. 

You burly lovers on the village green, 

Yours is a lower, and a happier star! 



MODERN LOVE 25 



XXIII 

'T is Christmas weather, and a country house 

Receives us : rooms are full : we can but get 

An attic-crib. Such lovers will not fret 

At that, it is half-said. The great carouse 

Knocks hard upon the midnight's hollow door, 

But when I knock at hers, I see the pit. 

Why did I come here in that dullard fit ? 

I enter, and lie couched upon the floor. 

Passing, I caught the coverlet's quick beat : — 

Come, Shame, burn to my soul ! and Pride, and Pain' 

Foul demons that have tortured me, enchain ! 

Out in the freezing darkness the lambs bleat. 

The small bird stiffens in the low starlight. 

I know not how, but shuddering as I slept, 

I dreamed a banished angel to me crept : 

My feet were nourished on her breasts all night. 



26 MODERN LOVE 



XXIV 

The misery is greater, as I live! 
To know her flesh so pure, so keen her sense, 
That she does penance now for no offence, 
Save against Love. The less can I forgive! 
The less can I forgive, though I adore 
That cruel lovely pallor which surrounds 
Her footsteps ; and the low vibrating sounds 
That come on me, as from a magic shore. 
Low are they, but most subtle to find out 
The shrinking soul. Madam, 't is understood 
When women play upon their womanhood ; 
It means, a Season gone. And yet I doubt 
But I am duped. That nun-like look waylays 
My fancy. Oh ! I do but wait a sign ! 
Pluck out the eyes of pride ! thy mouth to mine ! 
Never ! though I die thirsting. Go thy ways ! 



MODERN LOVE 27 



XXV 

You like not that French novel ? Tell me why. 
You think it quite unnatural. Let us see. 
The actors are, it seems, the usual three : 
Husband, and wife, and lover. She — but fie ! 
In England we '11 not hear of it. Edmond, 
The lover, her devout chagrin doth share ; 
Blanc-mange and absinthe are his penitent fare, 
Till his pale aspect makes her over-fond : 
So, to preclude fresh sin, he tries rosbif. 
Meantime the husband is no more abused : 
Auguste forgives her ere the tear is used. 
Then hangeth all on one tremendous If : — 
If she will choose between them. She does choose ; 
And takes her husband, like a proper wife. 
Unnatural ? My dear, these things are life : 
And life, some think, is worthy of the Muse. 



28 MODERN LOVE 



XXVI 

Love ere he bleeds, an eagle in high skies, 
Has earth beneath his wings : from reddened eve 
He views the rosy dawn. In vain they weave 
The fatal web below while far he flies. 
But when the arrow strikes him, there 's a change. 
He moves but in the track of his spent pain, 
Whose red drops are the links of a harsh chain, 
Binding him to the ground, with narrow range. 
A subtle serpent then has Love become. 
I had the eagle in my bosom erst : 
Henceforward with the serpent I am cursed. 
I can interpret where the mouth is dumb. 
Speak, and I see the side-lie of a truth. 
Perchance my heart may pardon you this deed : 
But be no coward : — you that made Love bleed, 
You must bear all the venom of his tooth ! 



MODERN LOVE 29 



XXVII 

Distraction is the panacea, Sir ! 

I hear my oracle of Medicine say. 

Doctor ! that same specific yesterday 

I tried, and the result will not deter 

A second trial. Is the devil's line 

Of golden hair, or raven black, composed ? 

And does a cheek, like any sea-shell rosed, 

Or clear as widowed sky, seem most divine ? 

No matter, so I taste forgetfulness. 

And if the devil snare me, body and mind, 

Here gratefully I score : — he seemed kind, 

When not a soul would comfort my distress ! 

sweet new world, in which I rise new made ! 

Lady, once I gave love : now I take ! 

Lady, I must be flattered. Shouldst thou wake 

The passion of a demon, be not afraid. 



30 MODERN LOVE 



XXVIII 

I must be flattered. The imperious 
Desire speaks out. Lady, I am content 
To play with you the game of Sentiment, 
And with you enter on paths perilous ; 
But if across your beauty I throw light, 
To make it threefold, it must be all mine. 
First secret ; then avowed. For I must shine 
Envied, — I, lessened in my proper sight ! 
Be watchful of your beauty, Lady dear ! 
How much hangs on that lamp you cannot tell. 
Most earnestly I pray you, tend it well : 
And men shall see me as a burning sphere ; 
And men shall mark you eyeing me, and groan 
To be the God of such a grand sunflower ! 
I feel the promptings of Satanic power, 
While you do homage unto me alone. 



MODERN LOVE 31 



XXIX 

Am I failing ? For no longer can I cast 

A glory round about this head of gold. 

Glory she wears, but springing from the mould ; 

Not like the consecration of the Past ! 

Is my soul beggared ? Something more than earth 

I cry for still : I cannot be at peace 

In having Love upon a mortal lease. 

I cannot take the woman at her worth ! 

Where is the ancient wealth wherewith I clothed 

Our human nakedness, and could endow 

With spiritual splendour a white brow 

That else had grinned at me the fact I loathed ? 

A kiss is but a kiss now ! and no wave 

Of a great flood that whirls me to the sea. 

But, as you will ! we '11 sit contentedly, 

And eat our pot of honey on the grave. 



32 MODERN LOVE 



XXX 

What are we first ? First, animals ; and next 

Intelligences at a leap ; on whom 

Pale lies the distant shadow of the tomb, 

And all that draweth on the tomb for text. 

Into which state comes Love, the crowning sun : 

Beneath whose light the shadow loses form. 

We are the lords of life, and life is warm. 

Intelligence and instinct now are one. 

But nature says : ' My children most they seem 

When they least know me : therefore I decree 

That they shall suffer.' Swift doth young Love flee, 

And we stand wakened, shivering from our dream. 

Then if we study Nature we are wise. 

Thus do the few who live but with the day : 

The scientific animals are they. — 

Lady, this is my sonnet to your eyes. 



MODEKN LOVE 



XXXI 

This golden head has wit in it. I live 
Again, and a far higher life, near her. 
Some women like a young philosopher ; 
Perchance because he is diminutive. 
For woman's manly god must not exceed 
Proportions of the natural nursing size. 
Great poets and great sages draw no prize 
With women : but the little lap-dog breed, 
Who can be hugged, or on a mantel-piece 
Perched up for adoration, these obtain 
Her homage. And of this we men are vain ? 
Of this ! ? T is ordered for the world's increase ! 
Small flattery ! Yet she has that rare gift 
To beauty, Common Sense. I am approved. 
It is not half so nice as being loved, 
And yet I do prefer it. What 's my drift ? 



34 MODERN LOVE 



XXXII 

Full faith I have she holds that rarest gift 

To beauty, Common Sense. To see her lie 

With her fair visage an inverted sky 

Bloom-covered, while the underlids uplift, 

Would almost wreck the faith ; but when her mouth 

(Can it kiss sweetly ? sweetly!) would address 

The inner me that thirsts for her uo less, 

And has so long been languishing in drouth, 

I feel that I am matched ; that I am man ! 

One restless corner of my heart or head, 

That holds a dying something never dead, 

Still frets, though Nature giveth all she can. 

It means, that woman is not, I opine, 

Her sex's antidote. Who seeks the asp 

For serpent's bites ? 'T would calm me could I clasp 

Shrieking Bacchantes with their souls of wine ! 



MODERN LOVE 35 



XXXTII 

' In Paris, at the Louvre, there have I seen 

The sumptuously-feathered angel pierce 

Prone Lucifer, descending. Looked he fierce, 

Showing the fight a fair one ? Too serene ! 

The young Pharsalians did not disarray 

Less willingly their locks of floating silk : 

That suckling mouth of his, upon the milk 

Of heaven might still be feasting through the fray. 

Oh, Raphael ! when men the Fiend do fight, 

They conquer not upon such easy terms. 

Half serpent in the struggle grow these worms. 

And does he grow half human, all is right.' 

This to my Lady in a distant spot, 

Upon the theme : While mind is mastering clay, 

Gross clay invades it. If the spy you play, 

My wife, read this ! Strange love talk, is it not ? 



36 MODERN LOVE 



XXXIV 

Madam would speak with me. So, now it comes : 

The Deluge or else Fire ! She 's well ; she thanks 

My husbandship. Our chain on silence clanks. 

Time leers between, above his twiddling thumbs. 

Am I quite well ? Most excellent in health ! 

The journals, too, I diligently peruse. 

Vesuvius is expected to give news : 

Niagara is no noisier. By stealth 

Our eyes dart scrutinizing snakes. She 's glad 

I 'm happy, says her quivering under-lip. 

' And are not you? ' ' How can I be ? ' ' Take ship ! 

For happiness is somewhere to be had.' 

' Nowhere for me ! ' Her voice is barely heard. 

I am not melted, and make no pretence. 

With commonplace I freeze her, tongue and sense. 

Niagara or Vesuvius is deferred. 



MODERN LOVE 37 



XXXV 

It is no vulgar nature I have wived. 

Secretive, sensitive, she takes a wound 

Deep to her soul, as if the sense had swooned, 

And not a thought of vengeance had survived. 

No confidences has she : but relief 

Must come to one whose suffering is acute. 

have a care of natures that are mute ! 

They punish you in acts : their steps are brief. 

What is she doing ? What does she demand 

From Providence or me ? She is not one 

Long to endure this torpidly, and shun 

The drugs that crowd about a woman's hand. 

At Forfeits during snow we played, and I 

Must kiss her. ' Well performed ! ' I said : then she : 

' 'T is hardly worth the money, you agree ? ' 

Save her ? What for ? To act this wedded lie ! 



38 MODERN LOVE 



XXXVI 

My Lady unto Madam makes her bow. 

The charm of women is, that even while 

You 're probed by them for tears, you yet may smile, 

Nay, laugh outright, as I have done just now. 

The interview was gracious : they anoint 

(To me aside) each other with fine praise : 

Discriminating compliments they raise, 

That hit with wondrous aim on the weak point : 

My Lady's nose of Nature might complain. 

It is not fashioned aptly to express 

Her character of large-browed steadfastness. 

But Madam says : Thereof she may be vain! 

Now, Madam's faulty feature is a glazed 

And inaccessible eye, that has soft fires, 

Wide gates, at love-time only. This admires 

My Lady. At the two I stand amazed. 



MODERN LOVE 39 



XXXVII 

Along the garden terrace, under which 

A purple valley (lighted at its edge 

By smoky torch-flame on the long cloud-ledge 

Whereunder dropped the chariot), glimmers rich, 

A quiet company we pace, and wait 

The dinner-bell in prae-digestive calm. 

So sweet up violet banks the Southern balm 

Breathes round, we care not if the bell be late : 

Though here and there grey seniors question Time 

In irritable coughings. With slow foot 

The low rosed moon, the face of Music mute, 

Begins among her silent bars to climb. 

As in and out, in silvery dusk, we thread, 

I hear the laugh of Madam, and discern 

My Lady's heel before me at each turn. 

Our tragedy, is it alive or dead ? 



40 MODERN LOVE 



XXXVIII 

Give to imagination some pure light 

In human form to fix it, or you shame 

The devils with that hideous human game : — 

Imagination urging appetite ! 

Thus fallen have earth's greatest Gogmagogs, 

Who dazzle us, whom we can not revere : 

Imagination is the charioteer 

That, in default of better, drives the hogs. 

So, therefore, my dear Lady, let me love 1 

My soul is arrowy to the light in you. 

You know me that I never can renew 

The bond that woman broke : what would you have ? 

'T is Love, or Vileness ! not a choice between, 

Save petrifaction ! What does Pity here ? 

She killed a thing, and now it 's dead, 't is dear. 

Oh, when you counsel me, think what you mean ! 



MODERN LOVE 41 



XXXIX 

She yields : my Lady in her noblest mood 

Has yielded : she, my golden-crowned rose ! 

The bride of every sense ! more sweet than those 

Who breathe the violet breath of maidenhood. 

O visage of still music in the sky ! 

Soft moon ! I feel thy song, my fairest friend ! 

True harmony within can apprehend 

Dumb harmony without. And hark ! 't is nigh ! 

Belief has struck the note of sound : a gleam 

Of living silver shows me where she shook 

Her long white fingers down the shadowy brook, 

Tha-t sings her song, half waking, half in dream. 

"What two come here to mar this heavenly tune ? 

A man is one : the woman bears my name, 

And honour. Their hands touch ! Am I still tame ? 

Uod, what a dancing spectre seems the moon ! 



42 MODERN LOVE 



XL 

I bade my Lady think what she might mean. 
Know I my meaning, I ? Can I love one, 
And yet be jealous of another ? None 
Commits such folly. Terrible Love, I ween, 
Has might, even dead, half sighing to upheave 
The lightless seas of selfishness amain : 
Seas that in a man's heart have no rain 
To fall and still them. Peace can I achieve, 
By turning to this fountain-source of woe, 
This woman, who 's to Love as fire to wood ? 
She breathed the violet breath of maidenhood 
Against my kisses once ! but I say, No ! 
The thing is mocked at ! Helplessly afloat, 
I know not what I do, whereto I strive, 
The dread that my old love may be alive, 
Has seized my nursling new love by the throat. 



MODEEN LOVE 43 



XLI 

How many a thing which we cast to the ground, 
When others pick it up becomes a gem ! 
We grasp at all the wealth it is to them ; 
And by reflected light its worth is found. 
Yet for us still 't is nothing ! and that zeal 
Of false appreciation quickly fades. 
This truth is little known to human shades, 
How rare from their own instinct 't is to feel ' 
They waste the soul with spurious desire, 
That is not the ripe flame upon the bough. 
We two have taken up a lifeless vow 
To rob a living passion : dust for fire ! 
Madam is grave, and eyes the clock that tells 
Approaching midnight. We have struck despair 
Into two hearts. 0, look we like a pair 
Who for fresh nuptials joyfully yield all else ? 



44 MODERN LOVE 



XLII 

I am to follow her. There is much grace 
In woman when thus bent on martyrdom. 
They think that dignity of soul may come, 
Perchance, with dignity of body. Base ! 
But I was taken by that air of cold 
And statuesque sedateness, when she said 
' I 'm going ; ; lit a taper, bowed her head, 
And went, as with the stride of Pallas bold. 
Fleshly indifference horrible! The hands 
Of Time now signal : 0, she 's safe from me ! 
Within those secret walls what do I see ? 
Where first she set the taper down she stands : 
Not Pallas : Hebe shamed ! Thoughts black as death, 
Like a stirred pool in sunshine break. Her wrists 
I catch : she faltering, as she half resists, 
' You love . . . ? love . . . ? love . . . ? • all on an indrawn 
breath. 



MODERN LOVE 45 



XLIII 

Mark where the pressing wind shoots javelin-like, 

Its skeleton shadow on the broad-backed wave ! 

Here is a fitting spot to dig Love's grave ; 

Here where the ponderous breakers plunge and strike, 

And dart their hissing tongues high up the sand : 

In hearing of the ocean, and in sight 

Of those ribbed wind-streaks running into white. 

If I the death of Love had deeply planned, 

I never could have made it half so sure, 

As by the unblest kisses which upbraid 

The full-waked sense ; or failing that, degrade ! 

'T is morning : but no morning can restore 

What we have forfeited. I see no sin : 

The wrong is mixed. In tragic life, God wot, 

No villain need be ! Passions spin the plot : 

We are betrayed by what is false within. 



46 MODERN LOVE 



XLIV 

They say, that Pity in Love's service dwells, 
A porter at the rosy temple's gate. 
I missed him going : but it is my fate 
To come upon him now beside his wells ; 
Whereby I know that I Love's temple leave, 
And that the purple doors have closed behind. 
Poor soul ! if in those early days unkind, 
Thy power to sting had been but power to grieve, 
We now might with an equal spirit meet, 
And not be matched like innocence and vice. 
She for the Temple's worship has paid price, 
And takes the coin of Pity as a cheat. 
She sees through simulation to the bone : 
What 's best in her impels her to the worst : 
Never, she cries, shall Pity soothe Love's thirst, 
Or foul hypocrisy for truth atone ! 



MODERN LOVE 47 



XLV 

It is the season of the sweet wild rose, 

My Lady's emblem in the heart of me ! 

So golden-crowned shines she gloriously, 

And with that softest dream of blood she glows : 

Mild as an evening heaven round Hesper bright ! 

I pluck the flower, and smell it, and revive 

The time when in her eyes I stood alive. 

I seem to look upon it out of Night. 

Here 's Madam, stepping hastily. Her whims 

Bid her demand the flower, which I let drop. 

As I proceed, I feel her sharply stop, 

And crush it under heel with trembling limbs. 

She joins me in a cat-like way, and talks 

Of company, and even condescends 

To utter laughing scandal of old friends. 

These are the summer days, and these our walks. 



48 MODERN LOVE 



XL VI 

At last we parley : we so strangely dumb 
In such a close communion ! It befell 
About the sounding of the Matin-bell, 
And lo ! her place was vacant, and the hum 
Of loneliness was round me. Then I rose, 
And my disordered brain did guide my foot 
To that old wood where our first love-salute 
Was interchanged : the source of many throes ! 
There did I see her, not alone. I moved 
Toward her, and made proffer of my arm. 
She took it simply, with no rude alarm ; 
And that disturbing shadow passed reproved. 
I felt the pained speech coming, and declared 
My firm belief in her, ere she could speak. 
A ghastly morning came into her cheek, 
While with a widening soul on me she stared. 



MODERN LOVE 49 



XLVII 

We saw the swallows gathering in the sky, 

And in the osier-isle we heard them noise. 

"We had not to look back on summer joys, 

Or forward to a summer of bright dye : 

But in the largeness of the evening earth 

Our spirits grew as we went side by side. 

The hour became her husband and my bride. 

Love that had robbed us so, thus blessed our dearth ! 

The pilgrims of the year waxed very loud 

In multitudinous chatterings, as the flood 

Pull brown came from the West, and like pale blood 

Expanded to the upper crimson cloud. 

Love that had robbed us of immortal things, 

This little moment mercifully gave, 

Where I have seen across the twilight wave 

The swan sail with her young beneath her wings. 



50 MODERN LOVE 



XLVIII 

Their sense is with their senses all mixed in, 

Destroyed by subtleties these women are ! 

More brain, Lord, more brain ! or we shall mar 

Utterly this fair garden we might win. 

Behold ! I looked for peace, and thought it near. 

Our inmost hearts had opened, each to each. 

We drank the pure daylight of honest speech. 

Alas ! that was the fatal draught, I fear. 

For when of my lost Lady came the word, 

This woman, this agony of flesh ! 

Jealous devotion bade her break the mesh, 

That I might seek that other like a bird. 

I do adore the nobleness ! despise 

The act ! She has gone forth, I know not where. 

Will the hard world my sentience of her share ? 

I feel the truth ; so let the world surmise. 



MODERN LOVE 51 



He found her by the ocean's moaning verge, 

Nor any wicked change in her discerned ; 

And she believed his old love had returned, 

Which was her exultation, and her scourge. 

She took his hand, and walked with him, and seemed 

The wife he sought, though shadow-like and dry. 

She had one terror, lest her heart should sigh, 

And tell her loudly she no longer dreamed. 

She dared not say, ' This is my breast : look in/ 

But there 's a strength to help the desperate weak. 

That night he learned how silence best can speak 

The awful things when Pity pleads for Sin. 

About the middle of the night her call 

Was heard, and he came wondering to the bed. 

' Now kiss me, dear ! it may be, now ! ' she said. 

Lethe had passed those lips, and he knew all. 



52 MODERN LOVE 



Thus piteously Love closed what he begat : 
The union of this ever-diverse pair ! 
These two were rapid falcons in a snare, 
Condemned to do the flitting of the bat. 
Lovers beneath the singing sky of May, 
They wandered once; clear as the dew on flowers: 
But they fed not on the advancing hours : 
Their hearts held cravings for the buried day. 
Then each applied to each that fatal knife, 
Deep questioning, which probes to endless dole. 
Ah, what a dusty answer gets the soul 
When hot for certainties in this our life ! — 
In tragic hints here see what evermore 
Moves dark as yonder midnight ocean's force, 
Thundering like ramping hosts of warrior horse, 
To throw that faint thin line upon the shore ! 



THE SAGE ENAMOUEED AND THE 
HONEST LADY 



One fairest of the ripe unwedded left 

Her shadow on the Sage's path ; he found, 

By common signs, that she had done a theft. 

He could have made the sovereign heights resound 

With questions of the wherefore of her state : 

He on far other but an hour before 

Intent. And was it man, or was it mate, 

That she disdained ? or was there haply more ? 

About her mouth a placid humour slipped 

The dimple, as you see smooth lakes at eve 

Spread melting rings where late a swallow dipped. 

The surface was attentive to receive, 

The secret underneath enfolded fast. 

She had the step of the unconquered, brave, 

Not arrogant ; and if the vessel's mast 

Waved liberty, no challenge did it wave. 

Her eyes were the sweet world desired of souls, 

With something of a wavering line unspelt. 

They held the look whose tenderness condoles 

For what the sister in the look has dealt 




54 THE SAGE ENAMOURED AND THE HONEST LADY 

Of fatal beyond healing ; and her tones 

A woman's honeyed amorous outvied, 

As when in a dropped viol the wood-throb moans 

Among the sobbing strings, that plain and chide 

Like infants for themselves, less deep to thrill 

Than those rich mother-notes for them breathed round. 

Those voices are not magic of the will 

To strike love's wound, but of love's wound give sound, 

Conveying it ; the yearnings, pains and dreams. 

They waft to the moist tropics after storm, 

When out of passion spent thick incense steams, 

And jewel-belted clouds the wreck transform. 

Was never hand on brush or lyre to paint 

Her gracious manners, where the nuptial ring 

Of melody clasped motion in restraint : 

The reed-blade with the breeze thereof may sing. 

With such endowments armed was she and decked 

To make her spoken thoughts eclipse her kind ; 

Surpassing many a giant intellect, 

The marvel of that cradled infant mind. 

It clenched the tiny fist, it curled the toe ; 

Cherubic laughed, enticed, dispensed, absorbed ; 

And promised in fair feminine to grow 

A Sage's match and mate, more heavenly orbed. 



ii 

Across his path the spouseless Lady cast 
Her shadow, and the man that thing became. 
His youth uprising called his age the Past. 
This was the strong grey head of laurelled name, 



THE SAGE ENAMOURED AND THE HONEST LADY 55 

And in his bosom an inverted Sage 

Mistook for light of morn the light which sauk. 

But who while veins run blood shall know the page 

Succeeding ere we turn upon our blank ? 

Comes Beauty with her tale of moon and cloud, 

Her silvered rims of mystery pointing in 

To hollows of the half-veiled unavowed, 

Where beats her secret life, grey heads will spin 

Quick as the young, and spell those hieroglyphs 

Of phosphorescent dusk devoutly bent ; 

They drink a cup to whirl on dizzier cliffs 

For their shamed fall, which asks, why was she sent ! 

Why, and of whom, and whence ; and tell they truth, 

The legends of her mission to beguile ? 

Hard likeness to the toilful apes of youth, 
He bore at times, and tempted the sly smile ; 
And not on her soft lips was it descried. 
She stepped her way benevolently grave : 
Nor sign that Beauty fed her worm of pride, 
By tossing victim to the courtier knave, 
Let peep, nor of the naughty pride gave sign. 
Rather 't was humbleness in being pursued, 
As pilgrim to the temple of a shrine. 
Had he not wits to pierce the mask he wooed ? 
All wisdom's armoury this man could wield ; 
And if the cynic in the Sage it pleased, 
Traverse her woman's curtain and poor shield, 
For new example of a world diseased ; 
Showing her shrineless, not a temple, bare ; 
A curtain ripped to tatters by the blast. 



56 THE SAGE ENAMOURED AND THE HONEST LADY 

Yet she most surely to this man stood fair : 

He worshipped like the young enthusiast, 

Named simpleton or poet. Did he read 

Right through, and with the voice she held reserved 

Amid her vacant ruins jointly plead ? 

Compassion for the man thus noble nerved 

The pity for herself she felt in him, 

To wreak a deed of sacrifice, and save ; 

At least, be worthy. That our soul may swim, 

We sink our heart down bubbling under wave. 

It bubbles till it drops among the wrecks. 

But, ah ! confession of a woman's breast: 

She eminent, she honoured of her sex ! 

Truth speaks, and takes the spots of the confessed, 

To veil them. None of women, save their vile, 

Plays traitor to an army in the field. 

The cries most vindicating most defile. 

How shall a cause to Nature be appealed, 

When, under pressure of their common foe, 

Her sisters shun the Mother and disown, 

On pain of his intolerable crow 

Above the fiction, built for him, o'erthrown ? 

Irrational he is, irrational 

Must they be, though not Reason's light shall wane 

In them with ever Nature at close call, 

Behind the fiction torturing to sustain ; 

Who hear her in the milk, and sometimes make 

A tongueless answer, shivered on a sigh : 

Whereat men dread their lofty structure's quake 

Once more, and in their hosts for tocsin ply 



THE SAGE ENAMOURED AND THE HONEST LADY 57 

The crazy roar of peril, leonine 

For injured majesty. That sigh of dames 

Is rare and soon suppressed. Not they combine 

To shake the structure sheltering them, which tames 

Their lustier if not wilder : fixed are they, 

In elegancy scarce denoting ease ; 

And do they breathe, it is not to betray 

The martyr in the caryatides. 

Yet here and there along the graceful row 

Is one who fetches breath from deeps, who deems, 

Moved by a desperate craving, their old foe 

May yield a trustier friend than woman seems, 

And aid to bear the sculptured floral weight 

Massed upon heads not utterly of stone : 

May stamp endurance by expounding fate. 

She turned to him, and, This you seek is gone ; 

Look in, she said, as pants the furnace, brief, 

Frost-white. She gave his hearing sight to view 

The silent chamber of a brown curled leaf : 

Thing that had throbbed ere shot black lightning through. 

No further sign of heart could he discern : 

The picture of her speech was winter sky ; 

A headless figure folding a cleft urn, 

Where tears once at the overflow were dry. 

in 

So spake she her first utterance on the rack. 
It softened torment, in the funeral hues 
Round wan Romance at ebb, but drove her back 
To listen to herself, herself accuse 



58 THE SAGE ENAMOURED AND THE HONEST LADY 

Harshly as Love's imperial cause allowed. 
She meant to grovel, and her lover praised 
So high o'er the condemnatory crowd, 
That she perforce a fellow phoenix blazed. 

The picture was of hand fast joined to hand, 

Both pushed from angry skies, their grasp more pledged 

Under the threatened flash of a bright brand 

At arm's length up, for severing action edged. 

Why, then Love's Court of Honour contemplate ; 

And two drowned shorecasts, who, for the life esteemed 

Above their lost, invoke an advocate 

In passion's purity, thereby redeemed. 

Eedeemed, uplifted, glimmering on a throne, 
The woman stricken by an arrow falls. 
His advocate she can be, not her own, 
If, Traitress to thy sex ! one sister calls. 

Have we such scenes of drapery's mournfulness 
On Beauty's revelations, witched we plant, 
Over the fair shape humbled to confess, 
An angel's buckler, with loud choric chant. 



IV 

No knightly sword to serve, nor harp of bard, 

The lady's hand in her physician's knew. 

She had not hoped for them as her award, 

When zig-zag on the tongue electric flew 

Her charge of counter-motives, none impure : 

But muteness whipped her skin. She could have said, 



THE SAGE ENAMOURED AND THE HONEST LADY 59 

Her free confession was to work his cure, 
Show proofs for why she could not love or wed. 
Were they not shown ? His muteness shook in thrall 
Her body on the verge of that black pit 
Sheer from the treacherous confessional, 
Demanding further, while perusing it. 

Slave is the open mouth beneath the closed. 

She sank ; she snatched at colours ; they were peel 

Of fruit past savour, in derision rosed. 

For the dark downward then her soul did reel. 

A press of hideous impulse urged to speak : 

A novel dread of man enchained her dumb. 

She felt the silence thicken, heard it shriek, 

Heard Life subsiding on the eternal hum : 

Welcome to women, when, between man's laws 

And Nature's thirsts, they, soul from body torn, 

Give suck at breast to a celestial cause, 

Named by the mouth infernal, and forsworn. 

Nathless her forehead twitched a sad content, 
To think the cure so manifest, so frail 
Her charm remaining. Was the curtain's rent 
Too wide ? he but a man of that herd male ? 
She saw him as that herd of the forked head 
Butting the woman harrowed on her knees, 
Clothed only in life's last devouring red. 
Confession at her fearful instant sees 
Judicial Silence write the devil fact 
In letters of the skeleton : at once, 
Swayed on the supplication of her act, 
The rabble reading, roaring to denounce, 



60 THE SAGE ENAMOURED AND THE HONEST LADY 

She joins. No longer colouring, with skips 
At tangles, picture that for eyes in tears 
Might swim the sequence, she addressed her lips 
To do the scaffold's office at his ears. 

Into the bitter judgement of that herd 
On women, she, deeming it present, fell. 
Her frenzy of abasement hugged the word 
They stone with, and so pile their citadel 
To launch at outcasts the foul levin bolt. 
A.s had he flung it, in her breast it burned. 
Face and reflect it did her hot revolt 
From hardness, to the writhing rebel turned; 
Because the golden buckler was withheld, 
She to herself applies the powder-spark, 
For joy of one wild demon burst ere quelled, 
Perishing to astound the tyrant Dark. 

She had the Scriptural word so scored on brain, 
It rang through air to sky, and rocked a world 
That danced down shades the scarlet dance profane ; 
Most women ! see ! by the man's view dustward hurled, 
Impenitent, submissive, torn in two. 
They sink upon their nature, the unnamed, 
And sops of nourishment may get some few, 
In place of understanding scourged and shamed. 

Barely have seasoned women understood 
The great Irrational, who thunders power, 
Drives Nature to her primitive wild wood, 
And courts her in the covert's dewy hour; 



THE SAGE ENAMOURED AND THE HONEST LADY 61 

Eeturning to his fortress nigh night's end, 
With execration of her daughters' lures. 
They help him the proud fortress to defend, 
Nor see what front it wears, what life immures, 
The murder it commits ; nor that its base 
Is shifty as a huckster's opening deal 
For bargain under smoothest market face, 
While Gentleness bids frigid Justice feel, 
Justice protests that Reason is her seat ; 
Elect Convenience, as Reason masked, 
Hears calmly cramped Humanity entreat ; 
Until a sentient world is overtasked, 
And rouses Reason's fountain-self : she calls 
On Nature ; Nature answers : Share your guilt 
In common when contention cracks the walls 
Of the big house which not on me is built. 

The Lady said as much as breath will bear ; 
To happier sisters inconceivable : 
Contemptible to veterans of the fair, 
Who show for a convolving pearly shell, 
A treasure of the shore, their written book. 
As much as woman's breath will bear and live, 
Shaped she to words beneath a knotted look, 
That held as if for grain the summing sieve. 

Her judge now brightened without pause, as wakes 

Our homely daylight after dread of spells. 

Lips sugared to let loose the little snakes 

Of slimy lustres ringing elfin bells 

About a story of the naked flesh, 

Intending but to put some garment on, 



62 THE SAGE ENAMOURED AND THE HONEST LADY 

Should learn, that in the subject they enmesh, 
A traitor lurks and will be known anon. 
Delusion heating pricks the torpid doubt, 
Stationed for index down an ancient track : 
And ware of it was he while she poured out, 
A broken moon on forest-waters black. 

Though past the stage where midway men are skilled 
To scan their senses wriggling under plough, 
When yet to the charmed seed of speech distilled, 
Their hearts are fallow, he, and witless how, 
Loathing, had yielded, like bruised limb to leech, 
Not handsomely ; but now beholding bleed 
Soul of the woman in her prostrate speech, 
The valour of that rawness he could read. 
Thence flashed it, as the crimson currents ran 
From senses up to thoughts, how she had read 
Maternally the warm remainder man 
Beneath his crust, and Nature's pity shed, 
In shedding dearer than heart's blood to light 
His vision of the path mild Wisdom walks. 
Therewith he could espy Confession's fright ; 
Her need of him: these flowers grow on stalks; 
They suck from soil, and have their urgencies 
Beside and with the lovely face mid leaves. 
Veins of divergencies, convergencies, 
Our botanist in womankind perceives ; 
And if he hugs no wound, the man can prize 
That splendid consummation and sure proof 
Of more than heart in her, who might despise, 
Who drowns herself, for pity up aloof 



THE SAGE ENAMOURED AND THE HONEST LADY Go 

To soar and be like Nature's pity : she 

Instinctive of what virtue in young days 

Had served him for his pilot-star on sea, 

To trouble him in haven. Thus his gaze 

Came out of rust, and more than the schooled tongue 

Was gifted to encourage and assure. 

He gave her of the deep well she had sprung ; 

And name it gratitude, the word is poor. 

But name it gratitude, is aught as rare 

From sex to sex ? And let it have survived 

Their conflict, comes the peace between the pair, 

Unknown to thousands husbanded and wived : 

Unknown to Passion, generous for prey : 

Unknown to Love, too blissful in a truce. 

Their tenderest of self did each one slay ; 

His cloak of dignity, her fleur de luce ; 

Her lily flower, and his abolla cloak, 

Things living, slew they, and no artery bled. 

A moment of some sacrificial smoke, 

They passed, and were the dearer for their dead. 

He learnt how much we gain who make no claims. 

A nightcap on his flicker of grey fire, 

Was thought of her sharp shudder in the flames, 

Confessing ; and its conjured image dire, 

Of love, the torrent on the valley dashed ; 

The whirlwind swathing tremulous peaks ; young force, 

Visioned to hold corrected and abashed 

Our senile emulous ; which rolls its course 

Proud to the shattering end ; with these few last 

Hot quintessential drops of bryony juice, 



64 THE SAGE ENAMOURED AND THE HONEST LADY 

Squeezed out in anguish : all of that once vast ! 
And still, though having skin for man's abuse, 
Though no more glorying in the beauteous wreath 
Shot skyward from a blood at passionate jet, 
Eepenting but in words, that stand as teeth 
Between the vivid lips ; a vassal set ; 
And numb, of formal value. Are we true 
In nature, never natural thing repents ; 
Albeit receiving punishment for due, 
Among the group of this world's penitents ; 
Albeit remorsefully regretting, oft 
Cravenly, while the scourge no shudder spares. 

Our world believes it stabler if the soft 
Are whipped to show the face repentance wears. 
Then hear it, in a moan of atheist gloom, 
Deplore the weedy growth of hypocrites ; 
Count Nature devilish, and accept for doom 
The chasm between our passions and our wits ! 

Affecting lunar whiteness, patent snows, 
It trembles at betrayal of a sore. 
Hers is the glacier-conscience, to expose 
Impurities for clearness at the core. 

She to her hungered thundering in breast, 
Ye shall not starve, not feebly designates 
The world repressing as a life repressed, 
Judged by the wasted martyrs it creates. 
How Sin, amid the shades Cimmerian, 
Repents, she points for sight : and she avers, 
The hoofed half-angel in the Puritan 
Nisrh reads her when no brutish wrath deters. 



THE SAGE ENAMOURED AND THE HONEST LADY 65 

Sin against immaturity, the sin 
Of ravenous excess, what deed divides 
Man from vitality ; these bleed within ; 
Bleed in the crippled relic that abides. 
Perpetually they bleed ; a limb is lost, 
A piece of life, the very spirit maimed. 
But culprit who the law of man has crossed 
With Nature's, dubiously within is blamed ; 
Despite our cry at cutting of the whip, 
Our shiver in the night when numbers frown * 
We but bewail a broken fellowship, 
A sting, an isolation, a fall'n crown. 

Abject of sinners is that sensitive, 

The flesh, amenable to stripes, miscalled 

Incorrigible : such title do we give 

To the poor shrinking stuff wherewith we are walled ; 

And taking it for Nature, place in ban 

Our Mother, as a Power wanton-willed, 

The shame and baffler of the soul of man, 

The recreant, reptilious. Do thou build 

Thy mind on her foundations in earth's bed ; 

Behold man's mind the child of her keen rod, 

For teaching how the wits and passions wed 

To rear that temple of the credible God ; 

Sacred the letters of her laws, and plain, 

Will shine, to guide thy feet and hold thee firm : 

Then, as a pathway through a field of grain, 

Man's laws appear the blind progressive worm, 

That moves by touch, and thrust of linking rings : 

The which to endow with vision, lift from mud 

5 



66 THE SAGE ENAMOURED AND THE HONEST LADY 

To level of their nature's aims and springs, 
Must those, the twain beside our vital flood, 
Now on opposing banks, the twain at strife 
(Whom the so rosy ferryman invites 
To junction, and mid-channel over Life, 
Unmasked to the ghostly, much asunder smites), 
Instruct in deeper than Convenience, 
In higher than the harvest of a year. 
Only the rooted knowledge to high sense 
Of heavenly can mount, and feel the spur 
For fruitfullest advancement, eye a mark 
Beyond the path with grain on either hand, 
Help to the steering of our social Ark 
Over the barbarous waters unto land. 

For us the double conscience and its war, 
The serving of two masters, false to both, 
Until those twain, who spring the root and are 
The knowledge in division, plight a troth 
Of equal hands : nor longer circulate 
A pious token for their current coin, 
To growl at the exchange ; they, mate and mate, 
Fair feminine and masculine shall join 
Upon an upper plane, still common mould, 
Where stamped religion and reflective pace 
A statelier measure, and the hoop of gold 
Rounds to horizon for their soul's embrace. 
Then shall those noblest of the earth and sun 
Inmix unlike to waves on savage sea. 
But not till Nature's laws and man's are one, 
Can marriage of the man and woman be. 



THE SAGE ENAMOURED AND THE HONEST LADY 67 



He passed her through the sermon's dull defile. 

Down under billowy vapour-gorges heaved 

The city and the vale and mountain-pile. 

She felt strange push of shuttle-threads that weaved. 

A new land in an old beneath her lay ; 

And forth to meet it did her spirit rush, 

As bride who without shame has come to say, 

Husband, in his dear face that caused her blush. 

A natural woman's heart, not more than clad 
By station and bright raiment, gathers heat 
From nakedness in trusted hands : she had 
The joy of those who feel the world's heart beat, 
After long doubt of it as fire or ice ; 
Because one man had helped her to breathe free ; 
Surprised to faith in something of a price 
Past the old charity in chivalry : — 
Our first wild step to right the loaded scales 
Displaying women shamefully outweighed. 
The wisdom of humaneness best avails 
For serving justice till that fraud is brayed. 

Her buried body fed the life she drank. 
And not another stripping of her wound ! 
The startled thought on black delirium sank, 
While with her gentle surgeon she communed, 



68 THE SAGE ENAMOURED AND THE HONEST LADY 

And woman's prospect of the yoke repelled. 

Her buried body gave her flowers and food ; 

The peace, the homely skies, the springs that welled j 

Love, the large love that folds the multitude. 

Soul's chastity in honesty, and this 
With beauty, made the dower to men refused. 
And little do they know the prize they miss ; 
Which is their happy fortune ! Thus he mused. 

For him, the cynic in the Sage had play 

A hazy moment, by a breath dispersed ; 

To think, of all alive most wedded they, 

Whom time disjoined! He needed her quick thirst 

For renovated earth : on earth she gazed, 

With humble aim to foot beside the wise. 

Lo, where the eyelashes of night are raised 

Yet lowly over morning's pure grey eyes. 



LOVE IS WINGED 

Love is winged for two, 
In the worst he weathers, 
When their hearts are tied ; 
But if they divide, 
too true ! 
Cracks a globe, and feathers, feathers, 
Feathers all the ground bestrew. 

I was breast of morning sea, 
Rosy plume on forest dun, 
I the laugh in rainy fleeces, 

While with me 

She made one. 
Now must we pick up our pieces, 
Eor that then so winged were we. 



ASK, IS LOVE DIVINE 

Ask, is Love divine, 
Voices all are, ay. 
Question for the sign, 
There 's a common sigh. 
Would we through our years, 
Love forego, 
Quit of scars and tears ? 
Ah, but no, no, no! 



JOY IS FLEET 

Jot is fleet, 
Sorrow slow. 
Love so sweet, 
Sorrow will sow. 
Love, that has flown 
Ere day's decline, 
Love to have known, 
Sorrow, be mine ! 



THE LESSON OF GEIEF 

Not ere the bitter herb we taste, 
Which ages thought of happy times, 
To plant us in a weeping waste, 
Rings with our fellows this one heart 
Accordant chimes. 

When I had shed my glad year's leaf, 
I did believe I stood alone, 
Till that great company of Grief 
Taught me to know this craving heart 
For not my own. 



THE WOODS OF WESTERMAIN 



Enter these enchanted woods, 

You who dare. 
Nothing harms beneath the leaves 
More than waves a swimmer cleaves. 
Toss your heart up with the lark, 
Foot at peace with mouse and worm, 

Fair you fare. 
Only at a dread of dark 
Quaver, and they quit their form : 
Thousand eyeballs under hoods 

Have you by the hair. 
Enter these enchanted woods, 

You who dare. 



ii 

Here the snake across your path 
Stretches in his golden bath : 
Mossy-footed squirrels leap 
Soft as winnowing plumes of Sleep : 
Yaffles on a chuckle skim 
Low to laugh from branches dim : 
Up the pine, where sits the star, 
Battles deep the moth-winged jar. 



74 THE WOODS OF WESTEEMAIN 

Each has business of his own ; 
But should you distrust a tone, 

Then beware. 
Shudder all the haunted roods, 
All the eyeballs under hoods 

Shroud you in their glare. 
Enter these enchanted woods, 

You who dare. 



in 

Open hither, open hence, 

Scarce a bramble weaves a fence, 

Where the strawberry runs red, 

With white star-flower overhead ; 

Cumbered by dry twig and cone, 

Shredded husks of seedlings flown, 

Mine of mole and spotted flint : 

Of dire wizardry no hint, 

Save mayhap the print that shows 

Hasty outward-tripping toes, 

Heels to terror, on the mould. 

These, the woods of Westermain, 

Are as others to behold, 

Rich of wreathing sun and rain ; 

Eoliage lustreful around 

Shadowed leagues of slumbering sound. 

Wavy tree-tops, yellow whins, 

Shelter eager minikins, 

Myriads, free to peck and pipe : 

Would you better ?' would you worse ? 



THE WOODS OF WESTERMAIN 75 

You with them may gather ripe 
Pleasures flowing not from purse. 
Quick and far as Colour flies 
Taking the delighted eyes, 
You of any well that springs 
May unfold the heaven of things ; 
Have it homely and within, 
And thereof its likeness win, 
Will you so in soul's desire : 
This do sages grant t' the lyre. 
This is being bird and more, 
More than glad musician this ; 
Granaries you will have a store 
Past the world of woe and bliss ; 
Sharing still its bliss and woe j 
Harnessed to its hungers, no. 
On the throne Success usurps, 
You shall seat the joy you feel 
Where a race of water chirps, 
Twisting hues of flourished steel: 
Or where light is caught in hoop 
Up a clearing's leafy rise, 
Where the crossing deerherds troop 
Classic splendours, knightly dyes. 
Or, where old-eyed oxen chew 
Speculation with the cud, 
Read their pool of vision through, 
Back to hours when mind was mud ; 
Nigh the knot, which did untwine 
Timelessly to drowsy suns ; 
Seeing Earth a slimy spine, 



76 THE WOODS OF WESTERMAIN 

Heaven a space for winging tons. 
Farther, deeper, may you read, 
Have you sight for things afield, 
Where peeps she, the Nurse of seed, 
Cloaked, but in the peep revealed ; 
Showing a kind face and sweet : 
Look you with the soul you see 't. 
Glory narrowing to grace, 
Grace to glory magnified, 
Following that will you embrace 
Close in arms or aery wide. 
Banished is the white Foam-born 
Not from here, nor under ban 
Phoebus lyrist, Phoebe's horn, 
Pipings of the reedy Pan. 
Loved of Earth of old they were, 
Loving did interpret her ; 
And the sterner worship bars 
None whom Song has made her stars. 
You have seen the huntress moon 
Radiantly facing dawn, 
Dusky meads between them strewn 
Glimmering like downy awn : 
Argent Westward glows the hunt, 
East the blush about to climb ; 
One another fair they front, 
Transient, yet outshine the time; 
Even as dewlight off the rose 
In the mind a jewel sows. 
Thus opposing grandeurs live 
Here if Beauty be their dower : 



THE WOODS OF WESTERMAIN 77 

Doth she of her spirit give, 

Fleetingness will spare her flower. 

This is in the tune we play, 

Which no spring of strength would quell ; 

In subduing does not slay ; 

Guides the channel, guards the well : 

Tempered holds the young blood-heat, 

Yet through measured grave accord, 

Hears the heart of wildness beat 

Like a centaur's hoof on sward. 

Drink the sense the notes infuse, 

You a larger self will find : 

Sweetest fellowship ensues 

"With the creatures of your kind. 

Ay, and Love, if Love it be 

Flaming over / and ME, 

Love meet they who do not shove 

Cravings in the van of Love. 

Courtly dames are here to woo, 

Knowing love if it be true. 

Reverence the blossom-shoot 

Fervently, they are the fruit. 

Mark them stepping, hear them talk, 

Goddess, is no myth inane, 

You will say of those who walk 

In the woods of Westermain. 

Waters that from throat and thigh 

Dart the sun his arrows back; 

Leaves that on a woodland sigh 

Chat of secret things no lack ; 

Shadowy branch-leaves, waters clear, 



78 THE WOODS OF WESTEIU1AIN 

Bare or veiled they move sincere j 
Not by slavish terrors tripped ; 
Being anew in nature dipped, 
Growths of what they step on, these ; 
With the roots the grace of trees. 
Casket-breasts they give, nor hide, 
For a tyrant's nattered pride, 
Mind, which nourished not by light, 
Lurks the shuffling trickster sprite : 
Whereof are strange tales to tell ; 
Some in blood writ, tombed in bell. 
Here the ancient battle ends, 
Joining two astonished friends, 
Who the kiss can give and take 
With more warmth than in that world 
Where the tiger claws the snake, 
Snake her tiger clasps infurled, 
And the issue of their fight 
Peoples lands in snarling plight. 
Here her splendid beast she leads 
Silken-leashed and decked with weeds 
Wild as he, but breathing faint 
Sweetness of unfelt constraint. 
Love, the great volcano, flings 
Fires of lower Earth to sky ; 
Love, the sole permitted, sings 
Sovereignly of ME and /. 
Bowers he has of sacred shade, 
Spaces of superb parade, 
Voiceful . . . But bring you a note 
Wrangling, howsoe'er remote, 



THE WOODS OF WESTERMATN 79 

Discords out of discord spin 
Round and round derisive din : 
Sudden will a pallor pant 
Chill at screeches miscreant ; 
Owls or spectres, thick they flee ; 
Nightmare upon horror broods ; 
Hooded laughter, monkish glee, 

Gaps the vital air. 
Enter these enchanted woods 

You who dare. 



IV 

You must love the light so well 
That no darkness will seem fell. 
Love it so you could accost 
Fellowly a livid ghost. 
Whish ! the phantom wisps away, 
Owns him smoke to cocks of day. 
In your breast the light must burn 
Fed of you, like corn in quern 
Ever plumping while the wheel 
Speeds the mill and drains the meal. 
Light to light sees little strange, 
Only features heavenly new ; 
Then you touch the nerve of Change, 
Then of Earth you have the clue ; 
Then her two-sexed meanings melt 
Through you, wed the thought and felt. 
Sameness locks no scurfy pond 
Here for Custom, crazy-fond : 



80 THE WOODS OF WESTERMALN' 

Change is on the wing to bud 

Rose in brain from rose in blood. 

"Wisdom throbbing shall you see 

Central in complexity ; 

From her pasture 'mid the beasts 

Rise to her ethereal feasts, 

Not, though lightnings track your wit 

Starward, scorning them you quit : 

For be sure the bravest wing 

Preens it in our common spring, 

Thence along the vault to soar, 

You with others, gathering more, 

Glad of more, till you reject 

Your proud title of elect, 

Perilous even here while few 

Eoam the arched greenwood with you. 

Heed that snare. 
Muffled by his cavern-cowl 
Squats the scaly Dragon-fowl, 
Who was lord ere light you drank, 
And lest blood of knightly rank 
Stream, let not your fair princess 
Stray : he holds the leagues in stress, 

Watches keenly there. 
Oft has he been riven ; slain 
Is no force in Westermain. 
Wait, and we shall forge him curbs, 
Put his fangs to uses, tame, 
Teach him, quick as cunning herbs, 
How to cure him sick and lame. 
Much restricted, much enringed, 



THE WOODS OP WESTERMAIN 81 

Much lie frets, the hooked and winged, 

Never known to spare. 
'T is enough : the name of Sage 
Hits no thing in nature, nought ; 
Man the least, save when grave Age 
From yon Dragon guards his thought. 
Eye him when you hearken dumb 
To what words from Wisdom come. 
When she says how few are by 
Listening to her, eye his eye. 

Self, his name declare. 
Him shall Change, transforming late, 
Wonderously renovate. 
Hug himself the creature may : 
What he hugs is loathed decay. 
Crying, slip thy scales, and slough ! 
Change will strip his armour off ; 
Make of him who was all maw, 
Inly only thrilling-shrewd, 
Such a servant as none saw 
Through his days of dragonhood. 
Days when growling o'er his bone, 
Sharpened he for mine and thine; 
Sensitive within alone ; 
Scaly as in clefts of pine. 
Change, the strongest son of Life, 
Has the Spirit here to wife. 
Lo, their young of vivid breed, 
Bear the lights that onward speed, 
Threading thickets, mounting glades, 
Up the verdurous colonnades, 

6 



82 THE WOODS OF WESTEEMAIN 

Round the fluttered curves, and down, 
Out of sight of Earth's blue crown, 
Whither, in her central space, 
Spouts the Fount and Lure o' the chase. 
Fount unresting, Lure divine! 
There meet all : too late look most. 
Fire in water hued as wine, 
Springs amid a shadowy host ; 
Circled : one close-headed mob, 
Breathless, scanning divers heaps 
Where a Heart begins to throb, 
Where it ceases, slow, with leaps. 
And 't is very strange, 't is said, 
How you spy in each of them 
Semblance of that Dragon red, 
As the oak in bracken-stem. 
And, 't is said, how each and each : 
Which commences, which subsides: 
First my Dragon ! doth beseech 
Her who food for all provides. 
And she answers with no sign ; 
Utters neither yea nor nay ; 
Fires the water hued as wine; 
Kneads another spark in clay. 
Terror is about her hid ; 
Silence of the thunders locked ; 
Lightnings lining the shut lid ; 
Fixity on quaking rocked. 
Lo, you look at Flow and Drought 
Interflashed and interwrought : 
Ended is begun, begun 



THE WOODS OF WESTERAIAIN 83 

Ended, quick as torrents run. 

Young Impulsion spouts to sink ; 

Luridness and lustre link ; 

'T is your come and go of breath ; 

Mirrored pants the Life, the Death ; 

Each of either reaped and sown : 

Rosiest rosy wanes to crone. 

See you so ? your senses drift; 

'T is a shuttle weaving swift. 

Look with spirit past the sense, 

Spirit shines in permanence. 

That is She, the view of whom 

Is the dust within the tomb, 

Is the inner blush above, 

Look to loathe, or look to love ; 

Think her Lump, or know her Flame ; 

Dread her scourge, or read her aim ; 

Shoot your hungers from their nerve ; 

Or, in her example, serve. 

Some have found her sitting grave ; 

Laughing, some ; or, browed with sweat, 

Hurling dust of fool and knave 

In a hissing smithy's jet. 

More it were not well to speak ; 

Burn to see, you need but seek. 

Once beheld she gives the key 

Airing every doorway, she. 

Little can you stop or steer 

Ere of her you are the seer. 

On the surface she will witch, 

Rendering Beauty yours, but gaze 



84 THE WOODS OF WESTEEMAIN 

Under, and the soul is rich 
Past computing, past amaze. 
Then is courage that endures 
Even her awful tremble yours. 
Then, the reflex of that Fount 
Spied below, will Reason mount 
Lordly and a quenchless force, 
Lighting Pain to its mad source, 
Scaring Fear till Fear escapes, 
Shot through all its phantom shapes. 
Then your spirit will perceive 
Fleshly seed of fleshly sins ; 
Where the passions interweave, 
How the serpent tangle spins 
Of the sense of Earth misprised, 
Brainlessly unrecognized; 
She being Spirit in her clods, 
Footway to the God of Gods. 
Then for you are pleasures pure, 
Sureties as the stars are sure : 
Not the wanton beckoning flags 
Which, of flattery and delight, 
Wax to the grim Habit-Hags 
Eiding souls of men to night : 
Pleasures that through blood run sane, 
Quickening spirit from the brain. 
Each of each in sequent birth, 
Blood and brain and spirit, three 
(Say the deepest gnomes of Earth), 
Join for true felicity. 
Are they parted, then expect 



THE WOODS OF WESTEKMAIN 85 

Some one sailing will be wrecked: 
Separate hunting are they sped, 
Scan the morsel coveted. 
Earth that Triad is : she hides 
Joy from him who that divides ; 
Showers it when the three are one 
Glassing her in union. 
Earth your haven, Earth your helm, 
You command a double realm : 
Labouring here to pay your debt, 
Till your little sun shall set ; 
Leaving her the future task : 
Loving her too well to ask. 
Eglantine that climbs the yew, 
She her darkest wreathes for those 
Knowing her the Ever-new, 
And themselves the kin o' the rose. 
Life, the chisel, axe and sword, 
Wield who have her depths explored : 
Life, the dream, shall be their robe, 
Large as air about the globe ; 
Life, the question, hear its cry 
Echoed with concordant Why ; 
Life, the small self-dragon ramped, 
Thrill for service to be stamped. 
Ay, and over every height 
Life for them shall wave a wand : 
That, the last, where sits affright, 
Homely shows the stream beyond. 
Love the light and be its lynx, 
You will track her and attain ; 



86 THE WOODS OF WESTERMAIN 

Read her as no cruel Sphinx 
In the woods of Westermain. 
Daily fresh the woods are ranged ; 
Glooms which otherwhere appal, 
Sounded : here, their worths exchanged, 
Urban joins with pastoral : 
Little lost, save what may drop 
Husk-like, and the mind preserves. 
Natural overgrowths they lop, 
Yet from nature neither swerves, 
Trained or savage : for this cause : 
Of our Earth they ply the laws, 
Have in Earth their feeding root, 
Mind of man and bent of brute. 
Hear that song; both wild and ruled. 
Hear it : is it wail or mirth ? 
Ordered, bubbled, quite unschooled ? 
None, and all : it springs of Earth. 
but hear it ! 't is the mind ; 
Mind that with deep Earth unites, 
Round the solid trunk to wind 
Rings of clasping parasites. 
Music have you there to feed 
Simplest and most soaring need. 
Free to wind, and in desire 
Winding, they to her attached 
Feel the trunk a spring of fire, 
And ascend to heights unmatched, 
Whence the tidal world is viewed 
As a sea of windy wheat, 
Momently black, barren, rude ; 



THE WOODS OF WESTERMAIN 87 

Golden-brown, for harvest meet; 
Dragon-reaped from folly-sown ; 
Bride-like to the sickle-blade : 
Quick it varies, while the moan, 
Moan of a sad creature strayed, 
Chiefly is its voice. So flesh 
Conjures tempest-flails to thresh 
Good from worthless. Some clear lamps 
Light it ; more of dead marsh-damps. 
Monster is it still, and blind, 
Fit but to be led by Pain. 
Glance we at the paths behind, 
Fruitful sight has Westermain. 
There we laboured, and in turn 
Forward our blown lamps discern, 
As you see on the dark deep 
Far the loftier billows leap, 

Foam for beacon bear. 
Hither, hither, if you will, 
Drink instruction, or instil, 
Run the woods like vernal sap, 
Crying, hail to luminousness! 

But have care. 
In yourself may lurk the trap : 
On conditions they caress. 
Here you meet the light invoked: 
Here is never secret cloaked. 
Doubt you with the monster's fry 
All his orbit may exclude ; 
Are you of the stiff, the dry, 
Cursing the not understood ; 



88 THE WOODS OF WESTERMAIN 

Grasp you with the monster's claws ; 
Govern with his truncheon-saws ; 
Hate, the shadow of a grain ; 
You are lost in Westermain : 
Earthward swoops a vulture sun, 
Nighted upon carrion : 
Straightway venom winecups shout 
Toasts to One whose eyes are out : 
Flowers along the reeling floor 
Drip henbane and hellebore : 
Beauty, of her tresses shorn, 
Shrieks as nature's maniac : 
Hideousness on hoof and horn 
Tumbles, yapping in her track : 
Haggard Wisdom, stately once, 
Leers fantastical and trips : 
Allegory drums the sconce, 
Impiousness nibblenips. 
Imp that dances, imp that flits, 
Imp o' the demon-growing girl, 
Maddest! whirl with imp o' the pits 
Round you, and with them you whirl 
Fast where pours the fountain-rout 
Out of Him whose eyes are out : 
Multitudes on multitudes, 
Drenched in wallowing devilry : 
And you ask where you may be, 

In what reek of a lair 
Given to bones and ogre-broods : 

And they yell you Where. 
Enter these enchanted woods, 

You who dare. 



A BALLAD OF PAST MERIDIAN 



Last night returning from my twilight walk 
I met the grey mist Death, whose eyeless brow 
Was bent on me, and from his hand of chalk 
He reached me flowers as from a withered bough : 
O Death, what bitter nosegays givest thou ! 

ii 

Death said, I gather, and pursued his way. 
Another stood by me, a shape in stone, 
Sword-hacked and iron-stained, with breasts of clay, 
And metal veins that sometimes fiery shone : 
Life, how naked and how hard when known ! 

in 

Life said, As thou hast carved me, such am I. 
Then memory, like the nightjar on the pine, 
And sightless hope, a woodlark in night sky, 
Joined notes of Death and Life till night's decline ; 
Of Death, of Life, those inwound notes are mine. 



THE DAY OF THE DAUGHTEE OF HADES 



He who has looked upon Earth 
Deeper than flower and fruit, 
Losing some hue of his mirth, 
As the tree striking rock at the root, 
Unto him shall the marvellous tale 
Of Callistes more humanly come 
With the touch on his breast than a hail 
From the markets that hum. 



ii 

Now the youth footed swift to the dawn. 
'T was the season when wintertide, 
In the higher rock -hollows updrawn, 
Leaves meadows to bud, and he spied, 
By light throwing shallow shade, 
Between the beam and the gloom, 
Sicilian Enna, whose Maid 
Such aspect wears in her bloom 
Underneath since the Charioteer 
Of Darkness whirled her away, 
On a reaped afternoon of the year, 
Nigh the poppy-droop of Day. 



THE DAY OF THE DAUGHTER OF HADES 91 

and naked of her, all dust, 

The majestic Mother and Nurse, 

Ringing cries to the God, the Just, 

Curled the land with the blight of her curse : 

Recollected of this glad isle 

Still quaking. But now more fair, 

And momently fraying the while 

The veil of the shadows there, 

Soft Enna that prostrate grief 

Sang through, and revealed round the vines, 

Bronze-orange, the crisp young leaf, 

The wheat-blades tripping in lines, 

A hue unillumined by sun 

Of the flowers flooding grass as from founts: 

All the penetrable dun 

Of the morn ere she mounts. 



in 

Nor had saffron and sapphire and red 
Waved aloft to their sisters below, 
When gaped by the rock-channel head 
Of the lake, black, a cave at one blow, 
Reverberant over the plain : 
A sound oft fearfully swung 
For the coming of wrathful rain : 
And forth, like the dragon-tongue 
Of a fire beaten flat by the gale, 
But more as the smoke to behold, 
A chariot burst. Then a wail 
Quivered high of the love that would fold 



92 THE DAY OF THE DAUGHTER OF HADES 

Bliss immeasurable, bigger than heart, 
Though a God's : and the wheels were stayed, 
And the team of the chariot swart 
Reared in marble, the six, dismayed, 
Like hoofs that by night plashing sea 
Curve and ramp from the vast swan- wave : 
For, lo, the Great Mother, She ! 
And Callistes gazed, he gave 
His eyeballs up to the sight: 
The embrace of the Twain, of whom 
To men are their day, their night, 
Mellow fruits and the shearing tomb : 
Our Lady of the Sheaves 
And the Lily of Hades, the Sweet 
Of Enna : he saw through leaves 
The Mother and Daughter meet. 
They stood by the chariot-wheel, 
Embraced, very tall, most like 
Fellow poplars, wind-taken, that reel 
Down their shivering columns and strike 
Head to head, crossing throats : and apart, 
For the feast of the look, they drew, 
Which Darkness no longer could thwart ; 
And they broke together anew, 
Exulting to tears, flower and bud. 
But the mate of the Rayless was grave : 
She smiled like Sleep on its flood, 
That washes of all we crave : 
Like the trance of eyes awake 
And the spirit enshrouded, she cast 
The wan underworld on the lake. 
They were so, and they passed. 



THE DAY OF THE DAUGHTER OF HADES 93 



IV 



He tells it, who knew the law 
Upon mortals : he stood alive 
Declaring that this he saw: 
He could see, and survive. 



Now the youth was not ware of the beams 

With the grasses intertwined, 

For each thing seen, as in dreams, 

Came stepping to rear through his mind, 

Till it struck his remembered prayer 

To be witness of this which had flown 

Like a smoke melted thinner than air, 

That the vacancy doth disown. 

And viewing a maiden, he thought 

It might now be morn, and afar 

Within him the memory wrought 

Of a something that slipped from the car 

When those, the august, moved by : 

Perchance a scarf, and perchance 

This maiden. She did not fly, 

Nor started at his advance : 

She looked, as when infinite thirst 

Pants pausing to bless the springs, 

Refreshed, unsated. Then first 

He trembled with awe of the things 



94 THE DAY OF THE DAUGHTER OP HADES 

He had seen ; and he did transfer, 
Divining and doubting in turn, 
His reverence unto her; 
Nor asked what he crouched to learn : 
The whence of her, whither, and why 
Her presence there, and her name, 
Her parentage : under which sky 
Her birth, and how hither she came, 
So young, a virgin, alone, 
Unfriended, having no fear, 
As Oreads have ; no moan, 
Like the lost upon earth ; no tear; 
Not a sign of the torch in the blood, 
Though her stature had reached the height 
When mantles a tender rud 
In maids that of youths have sight, 
If maids of our seed they be : 
For he said : A glad vision art thou ! 
And she answered him : Thou to me ! 
As men utter a vow. 



VI 

Then said she, quick as the cries 
Of the rainy cranes : Light ! light! 
And Helios rose in her eyes, 
That were full as the dew-balls bright, 
Relucent to him as dews 
Unshaded. Breathing, she sent 
Her voice to the God of the Muse, 
And along the vale it went, 



THE DAY OP THE DAUGHTER OF HADES 95 

Strange to hear : not thin, not shrill : 

Sweet, but no young maid's throat : 

The echo beyond the hill 

Ran falling on half the note : 

And under the shaken ground 

Where the Hundred-headed groans 

By the roots of great iEtna bound, 

As of him were hollow tones 

Of wondering roared : a tale 

Repeated to sunless halls. 

But now off the face of the vale 

Shadows fled in a breath, and the walls 

Of the lake's rock-head were gold, 

And the breast of the lake, that swell 

Of the crestless long wave rolled 

To shore-bubble, pebble and shell. 

A morning of radiant lids 

O'er the dance of the earth opened wide : 

The bees chose their flowers, the snub kids 

Upon hindlegs went sportive, or plied, 

Nosing, hard at the dugs to be filled : 

There was milk, honey, music to make : 

Up their branches the little birds billed : 

Chirrup, drone, bleat and buzz ringed the lake. 

shining in sunlight, chief 

After water and water's caress, 

Was the young bronze-orange leaf, 

That clung to the tree as a tress, 

Shooting lucid tendrils to wed 

With the vine-hook tree or pole, 

Like Arachne launched out on her thread. 



96 THE DAY OF THE DAUGHTER OF HADES 

Then the maiden her dusky stole 

In the span of the black-starred zone, 

Gathered up for her footing fleet. 

As one that had toil of her own 

She followed the lines of wheat 

Tripping straight through the field, green blades, 

To the groves of olive grey, 

Downy -grey, golden-tinged : and to glades 

Where the pear-blossom thickens the spray 

In a night, like the snow-packed storm : 

Pear, apple, almond, plum : 

Not wintry now : pushing, warm ! 

And she touched them with finger and thumb, 

As the vine-hook closes : she smiled, 

Recounting again and again, 

Corn, wine, fruit, oil ! like a child, 

With the meaning known to men. 

For hours in the track of the plough 

And the pruning-knife she stepped, 

And of how the seed works, and of how 

Yields the soil, she seemed adept. 

Then she murmured that name of the dearth, 

The Beneficent, Hers, who bade 

Our husbandmen sow for the birth 

Of the grain making earth full glad. 

She murmured that Other's : the dirge 

Of life-light : for whose dark lap 

Our locks are clipped on the verge 

Of the realm where runs no sap. 

She said : We have looked on both ! 

And her eyes had a wavering beam 



THE DAY OF THE DAUGHTER OF HADES 97 

Of various lights, like the froth 
Of the storm-swollen ravine stream 
In flame of the bolt. What links 
Were these which had made him her friend ? 
He eyed her, as one who drinks, 
And would drink to the end. 



VII 

Now the meadows with crocus besprent, 
And the asphodel woodsides she left, 
And the lake-slopes, the ravishing scent 
Of narcissus, dark-sweet, for the cleft 
That tutors the torrent-brook, 
Delaying its forceful spleen 
With many a wind and crook 
Through rock to the broad ravine. 
By the hyacinth-bells in the brakes, 
And the shade-loved white windflower, half hid, 
And the sun-loving lizards and snakes 
On the cleft's barren ledges, that slid 
Out of sight, smooth as waterdrops, all, 
At a snap of twig or bark 
In the track of the foreign foot-fall, 
She climbed to the pineforest dark, 
Overbrowing an emerald chine 
Of the glass-billows. Thence, as a wreath, 
Running poplar and cypress to pine, 
The lake-banks are seen, and beneath, 
Vineyard, village, groves, rivers, towers, farms, 
The citadel watching the bay, 
7 



98 THE DAY OF THE DAUGHTER OP HADES 

The bay with the town in its arms, 

The town shining white as the spray 

Of the sapphire sea-wave on the rock, 

Where the rock stars the girdle of sea, 

White-ringed, as the midday flock, 

Clipped by heat, rings the round of the tree. 

That hour of the piercing shaft 

Transfixes bough-shadows, confused 

In veins of fire, and she laughed, 

With her quiet mouth amused, 

To see the whole flock, adroop, 

Asleep, hug the tree-stem as one, 

Imperceptibly filling the loop 

Of its shade at a slant of sun. 

The pipes under pent of the crag, 

Where the goatherds in piping recline, 

Have whimsical stops, burst and flag 

Uncorrected as outstretched swine : 

For the fingers are slack and unsure, 

And the wind issues querulous : — thorns 

And snakes ! — but she listened demure, 

Comparing day's music with morn's. 

Of the gentle spirit that slips 

From the bark of the tree she discoursed, 

And of her of the wells, whose lips 

Are coolness enchanting, rock-sourced. 

And much of the sacred loon, 

The frolic, the Goatfoot God, 

For stories of indolent noon 

In the pineforest's odorous nod, 

She questioned, not knowing : he can 



THE DAY OE THE DAUGHTER OF HADES 99 

Be waspish, irascible, rude, 

He is oftener friendly to man, 

And ever to beasts and their brood. 

For the which did she love him well, 

She said, and his pipes of the reed, 

His twitched lips puffing to tell 

In music his tears and his need, 

Against the sharp catch of his hurt. 

Not as shepherds of Pan did she speak, 

Nor spake as the schools, to divert, 

But fondly, perceiving him weak 

Before Gods, and to shepherds a fear, 

A holiness, horn and heel. 

All this she had learnt in her ear 

From Callistes, and taught him to feel. 

Yea, the solemn divinity flushed 

Through the shaggy brown skin of the beast, 

And the steeps where the cataract rushed, 

And the wilds where the forest is priest, 

Were his temple to clothe him in awe, 

While she spake : 't was a wonder : she read 

The haunts of the beak and the claw 

As plain as the land of bread, 

But Cities and martial States, 

Whither soon the youth veered his theme, 

Were impervious barrier-gates 

To her : and that ship, a trireme, 

Nearing harbour, scarce wakened her glance, 

Though he dwelt on the message it bore 

Of sceptre and sword and lance 

To the bee-swarms black on the shore, 



r r» 



100 THE DAY OF THE DAUGHTER OF HADES 

Which were audible almost, 
So black they were. It befell 
That he called up the warrior host 
Of the Song pouring hydromel 
In thunder, the wide-winged Song. 
And he named with his boyish pride 
The heroes, the noble throng 
Past Acheron now, foul tide ! 
With his joy of the godlike band 
And the verse divine, he named 
The chiefs pressing hot on the strand, 
Seen of Gods, of Gods aided, and maimed. 
The fleetfoot and ireful ; the King ; 
Him, the prompter in stratagem, 
Many-shifted and masterful : Sing, 
O Muse ! But she cried : Not of them ! 
She breathed as if breath had failed, 
And her eyes, while she bade him desist, 
Held the lost-to-light ghosts grey-mailed, 
As you see the grey river-mist 
Hold shapes on the yonder bank. 
A moment her body waned, 
The light of her sprang and sank : 
Then she looked at the sun, she regained 
Clear feature, and she breathed deep. 
She wore the wan smile he had seen, 
As the flow of the river of Sleep, 
On the mouth of the Shadow-Queen. 
In sunlight she craved to bask, 
Saying : Life ! And who was she ? who ? 
Of what issue ? He dared not ask, 
For that partly he knew. 



THE DAY OF THE DAUGHTER OF HADES 101 
VIII 

A noise of the hollow ground 

Turned the eye to the ear in debate : 

Not the soft overflowing of sound 

Of the pines, ranked, lofty, straight, 

Barely swayed to some whispers remote, 

Some swarming whispers above : 

Not the pines with the faint airs afloat, 

Hush-hushing the nested dove : 

It was not the pines, or the rout 

Oft heard from mid-forest in chase, 

But the long muffled roar of a shout 

Subterranean. Sharp grew her face. 

She rose, yet not moved by affright ; 

'T was rather good haste to use 

Her holiday of delight 

In the beams of the God of the Muse. 

And the steeps of the forest she crossed, 

On its dry red sheddings and cones 

Up the paths by roots green-mossed, 

Spotted amber, and old mossed stones. 

Then out where the brook-torrent starts 

To her leap, and from bend to curve 

A hurrying elbow darts 

For the instant-glancing swerve, 

Decisive, with violent will 

In the action formed, like hers, 

The maiden's, ascending ; and still 

Ascending, the bnd of the furze, 

The broom, and all blue-berried shoots 



102 THE DAY OF THE DAUGHTER OF HADES 

Of stubborn and prickly kind, 

The juniper flat on its roots, 

The dwarf rhododaphne, behind 

She left, and the mountain sheep 

Far behind, goat, herbage and flower. 

The island was hers, and the deep, 

All heaven, a golden hour. 

Then with wonderful voice that rang 

Through air as the swan's nigh death, 

Of the glory of Light she sang, 

She sang of the rapture of Breath. 

Nor ever, says he who heard, 

Heard Earth in her boundaries broad, 

From bosom of singer or bird 

A sweetness thus rich of the God 

Whose harmonies always are sane. 

She sang of furrow and seed, 

The burial, birth of the grain, 

The growth, and the showers that feed, 

And the green blades waxing mature 

For the husbandman's armful brown. 

0, the song in its burden ran pure, 

And burden to song was a crown. 

Callistes, a singer, skilled 

In the gift he could measure and praise, 

By a rival's art was thrilled, 

Though she sang but a Song of Days, 

Where the husbandman's toil and strife 

Little varies to strife and toil : 

But the milky kernel of life, 

With her numbered : corn, wine, fruit, oil! 



THE DAY OF THE DAUGHTER OF HADES 103 

The song did give him to eat : 
Gave the first rapt vision of Good, 
And the fresh young sense of Sweet : 
The grace of the battle for food, 
With the issue Earth cannot refuse 
When men to their labour are sworn. 
'T was a song of the God of the Muse 
To the forehead of Morn. 



IX 

Him loved she. Lo, now was he veiled: 
Over sea stood a swelled cloud-rack : 
The fishing-boat havenward sailed, 
Bent abeam with a whitened track, 
Surprised, fast hauling the net, 
As it flew : sea dashed, earth shook. 
She said : Is it night ? not yet ! 
With a travail of thoughts in her look. 
The mountain heaved up to its peak : 
Sea darkened : earth gathered her fowl : 
Of bird or of branch rose the shriek. 
Night ? but never so fell a scowl 
Wore night, nor the sky since then 
When ocean ran swallowing shore, 
And the Gods looked down for men. 
Broke tempest with that stern roar 
Never yet, save when black on the whirl 
Rode wrath of a sovereign Power. 
Then the youth and the shuddering girl, 
Dim as shades in the angry shower, 



104 THE DAY OF THE DAUGHTER OF HADES 

Joined hands and descended a maze 

Of the paths that were racing alive 

Round boulder and bush, cleaving ways, 

Incessant, with sound of a hive. 

The height was a fountain-urn 

Pouring streams, and the whole solid height 

Leaped, chasing at every turn 

The pair in one spirit of flight 

To the folding pineforest. Yet here, 

Like the pause to things hunted, in doubt, 

The stillness bred spectral fear 

Of the awfulness ranging without, 

And imminent. Downward they fled, 

From under the haunted roof, 

To the valley aquake with the tread 

Of an iron-resounding hoof, 

As of legions of thunderful horse 

Broken loose and in line tramping hard. 

For the rage of a hungry force 

Roamed blind of its mark over sward : 

They saw it rush dense in the cloak 

Of its travelling swathe of steam, 

All the vale through a thin thread-smoke 

Was thrown back to distance extreme: 

And dull the full breast of it blinked, 

Like a buckler of steel breathed o'er, 

Diminished, in strangeness distinct, 

Glowing cold, unearthly, hoar : 

An Enna of fields beyond sun, 

Out of light, in a lurid web, 

And the traversing fury spun 



THE DAY OF THE DAUGHTER OF HADES 105 

Up and down with a wave's flow and ebb ; 
As the wave breaks to grasp and to spurn, 
Retire, and in ravenous greed, 
Inveterate, swell its return. 
Up and down, as if wringing from speed 
Sights that made the unsighted appear, 
Delude and dissolve, on it scoured. 
Lo, a sea upon land held career 
Through the plain of the vale half-devoured. 
Callistes of home and escape 
Muttered swiftly, unwitting of speech. 
She gazed at the Void of shape, 
She put her white hand to his reach, 
Saying : Now have we looked on the Three. 
And divided from day, from night, 
From air that is breath, stood she, 
Like the vale, out of light. 



Then again in disorderly words 
He muttered of home, and was mute, 
With the heart of the cowering birds 
Ere they burst off the fowler's foot. 
He gave her some redness that streamed 
Through her limbs in a flitting glow. 
The sigh of our life she seemed, 
The bliss of it clothing in woe. 
Frailer than flower when the round 
Of the sickle encircles it : strong 
To tell of the things profound, 



106 THE DAY OF THE DAUGHTER OF HADES 

Our inmost uttering song, 

Unspoken. So stood she awhile 

In the gloom of the terror afield, 

And the silence about her smile 

Said more than of tongue is revealed. 

I have breathed : I have gazed : I have been : 

It said : and not joylessly shone 

The remembrance of light through the screen 

Of a face that seemed shadow and stone. 

She led the youth trembling, appalled, 

To the lake-banks he saw sink and rise 

Like a panic-struck breast. Then she called, 

And the hurricane blackness had eyes. 

It launched like the Thunderer's bolt. 

Pale she drooped, and the youth by her side 

Would have clasped her and dared a revolt 

Sacrilegious as ever defied 

High Olympus, but vainly for strength 

His compassionate heart shook a frame 

Stricken rigid to ice all its length. 

On amain the black traveller came. 

Lo, a chariot, cleaving the storm, 

Clove the fountaining lake with a plough, 

And the lord of the steeds was in form 

He, the God of implacable brow, 

Darkness : he : he in person : he raged 

Through the wave like a boar of the wilds 

From the hunters and hounds disengaged, 

And a name shouted hoarsely : his child's. 

Horror melted in anguish to hear. 

Lo, the wave hissed apart for the path 



THE DAY OF THE DAUGHTER OE HADES 107 

Of the terrible Charioteer, 
With the foam and torn features of wrath, 
Hurled aloft on each arm in a sheet ; 
And the steeds clove it, rushing at land 
Like the teeth of the famished at meat. 
Then he swept out his hand. 



XI 

This, no more, doth Callistes recall : 
He saw, ere he dropped in swoon, 
On the maiden the chariot fall, 
As a thundercloud swings on the moon. 
Forth, free of the deluge, one cry 
From the vanishing gallop rose clear : 
And : Skiageneia ! the sky 
Eang : Skiageneia ! the sphere. 
And she left him therewith, to rejoice, 
Repine, yearn, and know not his aim, 
The life of their day in her voice, 
Left her life in her name. 



XII 

Now the valley in ruin of fields 
And fair meadowland, showing at eve 
Like the spear-pitted warrior's shields 
After battle, bade men believe 
That no other than wrathfullest God 
Had been loose on her beautiful breast, 



108 THE DAY OF THE DAUGHTER OF HADES 

Where the flowery grass was clod, 

Wheat and vine as a trailing nest. 

The valley, discreet in grief, 

Disclosed but the open truth, 

And Enna had hope of the sheaf : 

There was none for the desolate youth 

Devoted to mourn and to crave. 

Of the secret he had divined 

Of his friend of a day would he rave : 

How for light of our earth she pined : 

For the olive, the vine and the wheat, 

Burning through with inherited fire : 

And when Mother went Mother to meet, 

She was prompted by simple desire 

In the day-destined car to have place 

At the skirts of the Goddess, unseen, 

And be drawn to the dear earth's face. 

She was fire for the blue and the green 

Of our earth, dark fire ; athirst 

As a seed of her bosom for dawn, 

White air that had robed and nursed 

Her mother. Xow was she gone 

With the Silent, the God without tear, 

Like a bud peeping out of its sheath 

To be sundered and stamped with the sere. 

And Callistes to her beneath, 

As she to our beams, extinct, 

Strained arms : he was shade of her shade. 

In division so were they linked. 

But the song which had betrayed 

Her flight to the cavernous ear 



THE DAY OF THE DAUGHTER OF HADES 109 

For its own keenly wakeful : that song 

Of the sowing and reaping, and cheer 

Of the husbandman's heart made strong 

Through droughts and deluging rains 

With his faith in the Great Mother's love : 

the joy of the breath she sustains, 

And the lyre of the light above, 

And the first rapt vision of Good, 

And the fresh young sense of Sweet : 

That song the youth ever pursued 

In the track of her footing fleet. 

For men to be profited much 

By her day upon earth did he sing : 

Of her voice, and her steps, and her touch 

On the blossoms of tender Spring, 

Immortal : and how in her soul 

She is with them, and tearless abides, 

Folding grain of a love for one goal 

In patience, past flowing of tides. 

And if unto him she was tears, 

He wept not : he wasted within : 

Seeming sane in the song, to his peers, 

Only crazed where the cravings begin. 

Our Lady of Gifts prized he less 

Than her issue in darkness : the dim 

Lost Skiageneia's caress 

Of our earth made it richest for him. 

And for that was a curse on him raised, 

And he withered rathe, dry to his prime, 

Though the bounteous Giver be praised 

Through the island with rites of old time 



110 THE DAY OF THE DAUGHTER OF HADES 

Exceedingly fervent, and reaped 
Veneration for teachings devout, 
Pious hymns when the corn-sheaves are heaped, 
And the wine-presses ruddily spout, 
And the olive and apple are juice 
At a touch light as hers lost below. 
Whatsoever to men is of use 
Sprang his worship of them who bestow, 
In a measure of songs unexcelled : 
But that soul loving earth and the sun 
From her home of the shadows he held 
For his beacon where beam there is none : 
And to join her, or have her brought back, 
In his frenzy the singer would call, 
Till he followed where never was track, 
On the path trod of all. 



THE LAEK ASCENDING 

He rises and begins to round, 
He drops the silver chain of sound, 
Of many links without a break, 
In chirrup, whistle, slur and shake, 
All intervolved and spreading wide, 
Like water-dimples down a tide 
Where ripple ripple overcurls 
And eddy into eddy whirls ; 
A press of hurried notes that run 
So fleet they scarce are more than one, 
Yet changeingly the trills repeat 
And linger ringing while they fleet, 
Sweet to the quick o' the ear, and dear 
To her beyond the handmaid ear, 
Who sits beside our inner springs, 
Too often dry for this he brings, 
Which seems the very jet of earth 
At sight of sun, her music's mirth, 
As up he wings the spiral stair, 
A song of light, and pierces air 
With fountain ardour, fountain play, 
To reach the shining tops of day, 
And drink in everything discerned 
An ecstasy to music turned, 



112 THE LARK ASCENDING 

Impelled by what his happy bill 
Disperses ; drinking, showering still, 
Unthinking save that he may give 
His voice the outlet, there to live 
Renewed in endless notes of glee, 
So thirsty of his voice is he, 
For all to hear and all to know 
That he is joy, awake, aglow, 
The tumult of the heart to hear 
Through pureness filtered crystal-clear, 
And know the pleasure sprinkled bright 
By simple singing of delight, 
Shrill, irreflective, unrestrained, 
Rapt, ringing, on the jet sustained 
Without a break, without a fall, 
Sweet-silvery, sheer lyrical, 
Perennial, quavering up the chord 
Like myriad dews of sunny sward 
That trembling into fulness shine, 
And sparkle dropping argentine ; 
Such wooing as the ear receives 
From zephyr caught in choric leaves 
Of aspens when their chattering net 
Is flushed to white with shivers wet ; 
And such the water-spirit's chime 
On mountain heights in morning's prime, 
Too freshly sweet to seem excess, 
Too animate to need a stress ; 
But wider over many heads 
The starry voice ascending spreads, 
Awakening, as it waxes thin, 



THE LARK ASCENDING 113 

The best in us to him akin ; 
And every face to watch him raised, 
Puts on the light of children praised, 
So rich our human pleasure ripes 
When sweetness on sincereness pipes, 
Though nought be promised from the seas, 
But only a soft-ruffling breeze 
Sweep glittering on a still content, 
Serenity in ravishment. 

For singing till his heaven fills, 

'T is love of earth that he instils, 

And ever winging up and up, 

Our valley is his golden cup, 

And he the wine which overflows 

To lift us with him as he goes : 

The woods and brooks, the sheep and kine, 

He is, the hills, the human line, 

The meadows green, the fallows brown, 

The dreams of labour in the town ; 

He sings the sap, the quickened veins ; 

The wedding song of sun and rains 

He is, the dance of children, thanks 

Of sowers, shout of primrose-banks, 

And eye of violets while they breathe ; 

All these the circling song will wreathe, 

And you shall hear the herb and tree, 

The better heart of men shall see, 

Shall feel celestially, as long 

As you crave nothing save the song. 

8 



114 THE LARK ASCENDING 

Was never voice of ours could say 
Our inmost in the sweetest way, 
Like yonder voice aloft, and link 
All hearers in the song they drink. 
Our wisdom speaks from failing blood, 
Our passion is too full in flood, 
We want the key of his wild note 
Of truthful in a tuneful throat, 
The soDg seraphically free 
Of taint of personality, 
So pure that it salutes the suns 
The voice of one for millions, 
In whom the millions rejoice 
For giving their one spirit voice. 

Yet men have we, whom we revere, 
Now names, and men still housing here, 
Whose lives, by many a battle-dint 
Defaced, and grinding wheels on flint, 
Yield substance, though they sing not, sweet 
For song our highest heaven to greet : 
Whom heavenly singing gives us new, 
Enspheres them brilliant in our blue, 
From firmest base to farthest leap, 
Because their love of Earth is deep, 
And they are warriors in accord 
With life to serve, and pass reward, 
So touching purest and so heard 
In the brain's reflex of yon bird : 



THE LARK ASCENDING 115 

Wherefore their soul in me, or mine, 

Through self-forgetfulness divine, 

In them, that song aloft maintains, 

To fill the sky and thrill the plains 

With showerings drawn from human stores, 

As he to silence nearer soars, 

Extends the world at wings and dome, 

More spacious making more our home, 

Till lost on his aerial rings 

In light, and then the fancy sings. 



PHOEBUS WITH ADMETUS 



When by Zeus relenting the mandate was revoked, 

Sentencing to exile the bright Sun-God, 
Mindful were the ploughmen of who the steer had yoked, 

Who : and what a track showed the upturned sod ! 
Mindful were the shepherds as now the noon severe 

Bent a burning eyebrow to brown evetide, 
How the rustic flute drew the silver to the sphere, 
Sister of his own, till her rays fell wide. 
God ! of whom music 
And song and blood are pure, 
The day is never darkened 
That had thee here obscure. 



ii 

Chirping none the scarlet cicalas crouched in ranks : 
Slack the thistle-head piled its down-silk grey : 

Scarce the stony lizard sucked hollows in his flanks : 
Thick on spots of umbrage our drowsed flocks lay. 



PHOEBUS WITH ADMETUS 117 

Sudden bowed the chestnuts beneath a wind unheard, 

Lengthened ran the grasses, the sky grew slate : 
Then amid a swift flight of winged seed white as curd, 
Clear of limb a Youth smote the master's gate. 
God ! of whom music 
And song and blood are pure, 
The day is never darkened 
That had thee here obscure. 



in 

Water, first of singers, o'er rocky mount and mead, 

First of earthly singers, the sun-loved rill, 
Sang of him, and flooded the ripples on the reed, 

Seeking whom to waken and what ear fill. 
Water, sweetest soother to kiss a wound and cool, 

Sweetest and divinest, the sky-born brook, 
Chuckled, with a whimper, and made a mirror-pool 
Round the guest we welcomed, the strange hand shook. 
God ! of whom music 
And song and blood are pure, 
The day is never darkened 
That had thee here obscure. 



IV 

Many swarms of wild bees descended on our fields : 
Stately stood the wheatstalk with head bent high : 

Big of heart we laboured at storing mighty yields, 
Wool and corn, and clusters to make men cry ! 



118 PHOEBUS WITH ADMETUS 

Hand-like rushed the vintage ; we strung the bellied skins 

Plump, and at the sealing the Youth's voice rose : 
Maidens clung in circle, on little fists their chins ; 
Gentle beasties through pushed a cold long nose. 
God ! of whom music 
And song and blood are pure, 
The day is never darkened 
That had thee here obscure. 



Foot to fire in snowtime we trimmed the slender shaft : 

Often down the pit spied the lean wolf's teeth 
Grin against his will, trapped by masterstrokes of craft ; 

Helpless in his froth-wrath as green logs seethe ! 
Safe the tender lambs tugged the teats, and winter sped 

Whirled before the crocus, the year's new gold. 
Hung the hooky beak up aloft the arrowhead 
Reddened through his feathers for our dear fold. 
God! of whom music 
And song and blood are pure, 
The day is never darkened 
That had thee here obscure. 



VI 

Tales we drank of giants at war with Gods above : 
Rocks were they to look on, and earth climbed air ! 

Tales of search for simples, and those who sought of love 
Ease because the creature was all too fair. 



PHOEBUS WITH ADMETUS 119 

Pleasant ran our thinking that while our work was good, 

Sure as fruits for sweat would the praise come fast. 
He that wrestled stoutest and tamed the billow-brood 
Danced in rings with girls, like a sail-flapped mast. 
God ! of whom music 
And song and blood are pure, 
The day is never darkened 
That had thee here obscure. 



VII 

Lo, the herb of healing, when once the herb is known, 
Shines in shady woods bright as new-sprung flame. 
Ere the string was tightened we heard the mellow tone, 

After he had taught how the sweet sounds came. 
Stretched about his feet, labour done, 't was as you see 

Red pomegranates tumble and burst hard rind. 
So began contention to give delight and be 
Excellent in things aimed to make life kind. 
God ! of whom music 
And song and blood are pure, 
The day is never darkened 
That had thee here obscure. 



VIII 

You with shelly horns, rams ! and, promontory goats, 
You whose browsing beards dip in coldest dew ! 

Bulls, that walk the pastures in kingly-flashing coats ! 
Laurel, ivy, vine, wreathed for feasts not few ! 



120 PHOEBUS WITH ADMETUS 

You that build the shade-roof, and you that court the rays, 

You that leap besprinkling the rock stream-rent : 
He has been our fellow, the morning of our days ; 
Us he chose for housemates, and this way went. 
God! of whom music 
And song and blood are pure, 
The day is never darkened 
That had thee here obscure. 



MELAMPUS 



With love exceeding a simple love of the things 

That glide in grasses and rubble of woody wreck ; 
Or change their perch on a beat of quivering wings 

From branch to branch, only restful to pipe and peck ; 
Or, bristled, curl at a touch their snouts in a ball ; 

Or cast their web between bramble and thorny hook ; 
The good physician Melampus, loving them all, 

Among them walked, as a scholar who reads a book. 



ii 

For him the woods were a home and gave him the key 

Of knowledge, thirst for their treasures in herbs and 
flowers. 
The secrets held by the creatures nearer than we 

To earth he sought, and the link of their life with ours : 
And where alike we are, unlike where, and the veined 

Division, veined parallel, of a blood that flows 
In them, in us, from the source by man unattained 

Save marks he well what the mystical woods disclose. 



122 MELAMPUS 



III 

And this he deemed might be boon of love to a breast 

Embracing tenderly each little motive shape, 
The prone, the flitting, who seek their food whither best 

Their wits direct, whither best from their foes escape : 
For closer drawn to our mother's natural milk, 

As babes they learn where her motherly help is great : 
They know the juice for the honey, juice for the silk, 

And need they medical antidotes find them straight. 

IV 

Of earth and sun they are wise, they nourish their broods, 

Weave, build, hive, burrow and battle, take joy and pain 
Like swimmers varying billows : never in woods 

Runs white insanity fleeing itself : all sane 
The woods revolve : as the tree its shadowing limns 

To some resemblance in motion, the rooted life 
Restrains disorder : you hear the primitive hymns 

Of earth in woods issue wild of the web of strife. 



Now sleeping once on £ day of marvellous fire, 

A brood of snakes he had cherished in grave regret 
That death his people had dealt their dam and their sire, 

Through savage dread of them, crept to his neck, and s< 
Their tongues to lick him : the swift affectionate tongue 

Of each ran licking the slumberer : then his ears 
A forked red tongue tickled shrewdly : sudden upsprung, 

He heard a voice piping : Ay, for he has no fears ! 



MELAMPUS 



A bird said that, in the notes of birds, and the speech 

Of men, it seemed : and another renewed : He moves 
To learn and not to pursue, he gathers to teach ; 

He feeds his young as do we, and as we love loves. 
No fears have I of a man who goes with his head 

To earth, chance looking aloft at us, kind of hand : 
I feel to him as to earth of whom we are fed ; 

I pipe him much for his good could he understand. 



VII 

Melampus touched at his ears, laid finger on wrist : 

He was not dreaming, he sensibly felt and heard. 
Above, through leaves, where the tree-twigs thick intertwist, 

He spied the birds and the bill of the speaking bird. 
His cushion mosses in shades of various green, 

The lumped, the antlered, he pressed, while the sunny 
snake 
Slipped under : draughts he had drunk of clear Hippocrene, 

It seemed, and sat with a gift of the Gods awake. 



VIII 

Divinely thrilled was the man, exultingly full, 

As quick well-waters that come of the heart of earth, 

Ere yet they dart in a brook are one bubble-pool 

To light and sound, wedding both at the leap of birth. 



124 MELAMPUS 

The soul of light vivid shone, a stream within stream ; 

The soul of sound from a musical shell outflew ; 
"Where others hear but a hum and see but a beam, 

The tongue and eye of the fountain of life he knew. 



IX 



He knew the Hours : they were round him, laden with seed 

Of hours bestrewn upon vapour, and one by one 
They winged as ripened in fruit the burden decreed 

For each to scatter ; they flushed like the buds in sun, 
Bequeathing seed to successive similar rings, 

Their sisters, bearers to men of what men have earned : 
He knew them, talked with the yet unreddened ; the 
stings, 

The sweets, they warmed at their bosoms divined, 
discerned. 



Not unsolicited, sought by diligent feet, 

By riddling fingers expanded, oft watched in growth 
With brooding deep as the noon-ray's quickening wheat, 

Ere touch'd, the pendulous flower of the plants of sloth, 
The plants of rigidness, answered question and squeeze, 

Revealing wherefore it bloomed uninviting, bent, 
Yet making harmony breathe of life and disease, 

The deeper chord of a wonderful instrument. 



MELAMPUS 125 



XI 

So passed he luminous-eyed for earth and the fates 

We arm to bruise or caress us : his ears were charged 
With tones of love in a whirl of voluble hates, 

With music wrought of distraction his heart enlarged. 
Celestial-shining, though mortal, singer, though mute, 

He drew the Master of harmonies, voiced or stilled, 
To seek him ; heard at the silent medicine-root 

A song, beheld in fulfilment the unfulfilled. 



XII 

Him Phoebus, lending to darkness colour and form 

Of light's excess, many lessons and counsels gave ; 
Showed Wisdom lord of the human intricate swarm, 

And whence prophetic it looks on the hives that rave, 
And how acquired, of the zeal of love to acquire, 

And where it stands, in the centre of life a sphere ; 
And Measure, mood of the lyre, the rapturous lyre, 

He said was Wisdom, and struck him the notes to hear. 



XIII 

Sweet, sweet: 't was glory of vision, honey, the breeze 
In heat, the run of the river on root and stone, 

All senses joined, as the sister Pierides 

Are one, uplifting their chorus, the Nine, his own. 



(26 MELAMPUS 

tn stately order, evolved of sound into sight, 
From sight to sound intershifting, the man descried 

The growths of earth, his adored, like day out of night, 
Ascend in song, seeing nature and song allied. 



XIV 

And there vitality, there, there solely in song, 

Resides, where earth and her uses to men, their needs, 
Their forceful cravings, the theme are : there is it strong, 

The Master said : and the studious eye that reads, 
(Yea, even as earth to the crown of Gods on the mount), 

In links divine with the lyrical tongue is bound. 
Pursue thy craft : it is music drawn of a fount 

To spring perennial ; well-spring is common ground. 



xv 

Melampus dwelt among men : physician and sage, 

He served them, loving them, healing them ; sick or 
maimed 
Or them that frenzied in some delirious rage 

Outran the measure, his juice of the woods reclaimed. 
He played on men, as his master, Phoebus, on strings 

Melodious : as the God did he drive and check, 
Through love exceeding a simple love of the things 

That glide in grasses and rubble of woody wreck. 



LOVE IN THE VALLEY 

Under yonder beech-tree single on the green-sward, 

Couched with her arms behind her golden head, 
Knees and tresses folded to slip and ripple idly, 

Lies my young love sleeping in the shade. 
Had I the heart to slide an arm beneath her, 

Press her parting lips as her waist I gather slow, 
Waking in amazement she could not but embrace me 

Then would she hold me and never let me go ? 



Shy as the squirrel and wayward as the swallow, 

Swift as the swallow along the river's light 
Circleting the surface to meet his mirrored winglets, 

Fleeter she seems in her stay than in her flight. 
Shy as the squirrel that leaps among the pine-tops, 

Wayward as the swallow overhead at set of sun, 
She whom I love is hard to catch and conquer, 

Hard, but the glory of the winning were she won ! 

When her mother tends her before the laughing mirror, 
Tying up her laces, looping up her hair, 

Often she thinks, were this wild thing wedded, 
More love should I have, and much less care. 



128 LOVE IN THE VALLEY 

When her mother tends her before the lighted mirror. 
Loosening her laces, combing down her curls, 

Often she thinks, were this wild thing wedded, 
I should miss but one for many boys and girls. 



Heartless she is as the shadow in the meadows 

Flying to the hills on a blue and breezy noon. 
No, she is athirst and drinking up her wonder : 

Earth to her is young as the slip of the new moon. 
Deals she an unkindness, 't is but her rapid measure, 

Even as in a dance ; and her smile can heal no less : 
Like the swinging May-cloud that pelts the flowers with 
hailstones 

Off a sunny border, she was made to bruise and bless. 



Lovely are the curves of the white owl sweeping 

Wavy in the dusk lit by one large star. 
Lone on the fir-branch, his rattle-note unvaried, 

Brooding o'er the gloom, spins the brown evejar. 
Darker grows the valley, more and more forgetting : 

So were it with me if forgetting could be willed. 
Tell the grassy hollow that holds the bubbling well-spring, 

Tell it to forget the source that keeps it filled. 



Stepping down the hill with her fair companions, 
Arm in arm, all against the raying West, 

Boldly she sings, to the merry tune she marches, 
Brave is her shape, and sweeter unpossessed. 



LOVE IN THE VALLEY 129 

Sweeter, for she is what my heart first awaking 
Whispered the world was ; morning light is she. 

Love that so desires would fain keep her changeless ; 
Fain would fling the net, and fain have her free. 



Happy happy time, when the white star hovers 

Low over dim fields fresh with bloomy dew, 
Near the face of dawn, that draws athwart the darkness, 

Threading it with colour, like yewberries the yew. 
Thicker crowd the shades as the grave East deepens 

Glowing, and with crimson a long cloud swells. 
Maiden still the morn is ; and strange she is, and secret ; 

Strange her eyes ; her cheeks are cold as cold sea-shells. 



Sunrays, leaning on our southern hills and lighting 

Wild cloud-mountains that drag the hills along, 
Oft ends the day of your shifting brilliant laughter 

Chill as a dull face frowning on a song. 
Ay, but shows the South-West a ripple-feathered bosom 

Blown to silver while the clouds are shaken and ascend 
Scaling the mid-heavens as they stream, there comes a 
sunset 

Rich, deep like love in beauty without end. 

When at dawn she sighs, and like an infant to the window 
Turns grave eyes craving light, released from dreams, 

Beautiful she looks, like a white water-lily 
Bursting out of bud in havens of the streams. 

9 



130 LOVE IN THE VALLEY 

When from bed she rises clothed from neck to ankle 
In her long nightgown sweet as boughs of May, 

Beautiful she looks, like a tall garden lily 

Pure from the night, and splendid for the day. 



Mother of the dews, dark eye-lashed twilight, 

Low-lidded twilight, o'er the valley's brim, 
Bounding on thy breast sings the dew-delighted skylark, 

Clear as though the dewdrops had their voice in him. 
Hidden where the rose-flush drinks the rayless planet, 

Fountain-full he pours the spraying fountain-showers. 
Let me hear her laughter, I would have her ever 

Cool as dew in twilight, the lark above the flowers. 

All the girls are out with their baskets for the primrose ; 

Up lanes, woods through, they troop in joyful bands. 
My sweet leads : she knows not why, but now she loiters, 

Eyes the bent anemones, and hangs her hands. 
Such a look will tell that the violets are peeping, 

Coming the rose : and unaware a cry 
Springs in her bosom for odours and for colour, 

Covert and the nightingale ; she knows not why. 



Kerchiefed head and chin she darts between her tulips, 
Streaming like a willow grey in arrowy rain : 

Some bend beaten cheek to gravel, and their angel 
She will be ; she lifts them, and on she speeds again. 



LOVE IN THE VALLEY 131 

Black the driving raincloud breasts the iron gateway : 
She is forth to cheer a neighbour lacking mirth. 

So when sky and grass met rolling dumb for thunder 
Saw I once a white dove, sole light of earth. 



Prim little scholars are the flowers of her garden, 

Trained to stand in rows, and asking if they please. 
I might love them well but for loving more the wild ones : 

my wild ones ! they tell me more than these. 
You, my wild one, you tell of honied field-rose, 

Violet, blushing eglantine in life; and even as they, 
They by the wayside are earnest of your goodness, 

You are of life's, on the banks that line the way. 



Peering at her chamber the white crowns the red rose, 

Jasmine winds the porch with stars two and three. 
Parted is the window ; she sleeps ; the starry jasmine 

Breathes a falling breath that carries thoughts of me. 
Sweeter unpossessed, have I said of her my sweetest ? 

Not while she sleeps : while she sleeps the jasmine 
breathes, 
Luring her to love; she sleeps; the starry jasmine 

Bears me to her pillow under white rose-wreaths. 

Yellow with birdfoot-trefoil are the grass-glades ; 

Yellow with cinquefoil of the dew-grey leaf ; 
Yellow with stonecrop ; the moss-mounds are yellow ; 

Blue-necked the wheat sways, yellowing to the sheaf. 



132 LOVE IN THE VALLEY 

Green-yellow bursts from the copse the laughing yaffle; 

Sharp as a sickle is the edge of shade and shine : 
Earth in her heart laughs looking at the heavens, 

Thinking of the harvest : I look and think of mine. 



This I may know : her dressing and undressing 

Such a change of light shows as when the skies in sport 
Shift from cloud to moonlight ; or edging over thunder 

Slips a ray of sun ; or sweeping into port 
White sails furl ; or on the ocean borders 

White sails lean along the waves leaping green. 
Visions of her shower before me, but from eyesight 

Guarded she would be like the sun were she seen. 

Front door and back of the mossed old farmhouse 

Open with the morn, and in a breezy link 
Freshly sparkles garden to stripe-shadowed orchard, 

Green across a rill where on sand the minnows wink. 
Busy in the grass the early sun of summer 

Swarms, and the blackbird's mellow fluting notes 
Call my darling up with round and roguish challenge : 

Quaintest, richest carol of all the singing throats ! 



Cool was the woodside ; cool as her white dairy 

Keeping sweet the cream-pan ; and there the boys from 
school, 

Cricketing below, rushed brown and red with sunshine ; 
the dark translucence of the deep-eyed cool ! 



LOVE IN THE VALLEY 133 

Spying from the farm, herself she fetched a pitcher 
Full of milk, and tilted for each in turn the beak. 

Then a little fellow, mouth up and on tiptoe, 

Said, ' I will kiss you ' : she laughed and leaned her 
cheek. 



Doves of the fir-wood walling high our red roof 

Through the long noon coo, crooning through the coo. 
Loose droop the leaves, and down the sleepy roadway 

Sometimes pipes a chaffinch ; loose droops the blue. 
Cows flap a slow tail knee-deep in the river, 

Breathless, given up to sun and gnat and fly. 
Nowhere is she seen ; and if I see her nowhere, 

Lightning may come, straight rains and tiger sky. 



the golden sheaf, the rustling treasure-armful ! 

the nutbrown tresses nodding interlaced ! 
the treasure-tresses one another over 

Nodding ! the girdle slack about the waist ! 
Slain are the poppies that shot their random scarlet 

Quick amid the wheatears : wound about the waist, 
Gathered, see these brides of Earth one blush of ripeness 1 

O the nutbrown tresses nodding interlaced ! 



Large and smoky red the sun's cold disk drops 5 
Clipped by naked hills, on violet shaded snow : 

Eastward large and still lights up a bower of moonrise, 
Whence at her leisure steps the moon aglow. 



134 LOVE IN THE VALLEY 

Nightlong on black print-branches our beech-tree 
Gazes in this whiteness : nightlong could I. 

Here may life on death or death on life be painted. 
Let me clasp her soul to know she cannot die ! 



Gossips count her faults ; they scour a narrow chamber 

Where there is no window, read not heaven or her. 
' When she was a tiny/ one aged woman quavers, 

Plucks at my heart and leads me by the ear. 
Faults she had once as she learnt to run and tumbled : 

Faults of feature some see, beauty not complete. 
Yet, good gossips, beauty that makes holy 

Earth and air, may have faults from head to feet. 



Hither she comes ; she comes to me ; she lingers, 

Deepens her brown eyebrows, while in new surprise 
High rise the lashes in wonder of a stranger ; 

Yet am I the light and living of her eyes. 
Something friends have told her fills her heart to brimming, 

Nets her in her blushes, and wounds her, and tames. — 
Sure of her haven, like a dove alighting, 

Arms up, she dropped : our souls were in our names. 



Soon will she lie like a white frost sunrise. 

Yellow oats and brown wheat, barley pale as rye, 
Long since your sheaves have yielded to the thresher, 

Felt the girdle loosened, seen the tresses fly. 



LOVE LN THE VALLEY 135 

Soon will she lie like a blood-red sunset. 

Swift with the to-morrow, green- winged Spring ! 
Sing from the South- West, bring her back the truants, 

Nightingale and swallow, song and dipping wing. 



Soft new beech-leaves, up to beamy April 

Spreading bough on bough a primrose mountain, you 
Lucid in the moon, raise lilies to the skyfields, 

Youngest green transfused in silver shining through : 
Fairer than the lily, than the wild white cherry : 

Fair as in image my seraph love appears 
Borne to me by dreams when dawn is at my eyelids : 

Fair as in the flesh she swims to me on tears. 



Could I find a place to be alone with heaven, 

I would speak my heart out : heaven is my need. 
Every woodland tree is flushing like the dogwood, 

Flashing like the whitebeam, swaying like the reed. 
Flushing like the dogwood crimson in October ; 

Streaming like the flag-reed South-West blown ; 
Flashing as in gusts the sudden-lighted whitebeam : 

All seem to know what is for heaven alone. 



THE THREE SINGERS TO YOUNG BLOOD 

Carols nature, counsel men. 
Different notes as rook from wren, 
Hear we when our steps begin, 
And the choice is cast within, 
Where a robber raven's tale 
Urges passion's nightingale. 

Hark to the three. Chimed they in one, 
Life were music of the sun. 
Liquid first, and then the caw, 
Then the cry that knows not law. 



THE THREE SINGERS TO YOUNG BLOOD 137 



As the birds do, so do we, 
Bill our mate, and choose our tree. 
Swift to building work addressed, 
Any straw will help a nest. 
Mates are warm, and this is truth, 
Glad the young that come of youth. 
They have bloom i' the blood and sap 
Chilling at no thunder-clap. 
Man and woman on the thorn, 
Trust not Earth, and have her scorn. 
They who in her lead confide, 
Wither me if they spread not wide ! 
Look for aid to little things, 
You will get them quick as wings, 
Thick as feathers ; would you feed, 
Take the leap that springs the need. 



138 THE THREE SINGERS TO YOUNG BLOOD 



II 

Contemplate the rutted road : 
Life is both a lure and goad. 
Each to hold in measure just, 
Trample appetite to dust. 
Mark the fool and wanton spin: 
Keep to harness as a skin. 
Ere you follow nature's lead, 
Of her powers in you have heed ; 
Else a shiverer you will find 
You have challenged humankind. 
Mates are chosen marketwise : 
Coolest bargainer best buys. 
Leap not, nor let leap the heart : 
Trot your track, and drag your cart. 
So your end may be in wool, 
Honoured, and with manger full. 



THE THREE SINGERS TO YOUNG BLOOD 139 



III 

the rosy light ! it fleets, 
Dearer dying than all sweets. 
That is life : it waves and goes ; 
Solely in that cherished Kose 
Palpitates, or else 't is death. 
Call it love with all thy breath. 
Love ! it lingers : Love ! it nears : 
Love ! Love ! the Rose appears, 
Blushful, magic, reddening air. 
Now the choice is on thee : dare ! 
Mortal seems the touch, but makes 
Immortal the hand that takes. 
Feel what sea within thee shames 
Of its force all other claims, 
Drowns them. Clasp ! the world will be 
Heavenly Rose to swelling sea. 



THE ORCHARD AND THE HEATH 

I chanced upon an early walk to spy 

A troop of children through an orchard gate : 

The boughs hung low, the grass was high ; 

They had but to lift hands or wait 
For fruits to fill thern ; fruits were all their sky. 

They shouted, running on from tree to tree, 

And played the game the wind plays, on and round. 

'T was visible invisible glee 

Pursuing ; and a fountain's sound 
Of laughter spouted, pattering fresh on me. 

I could have watched them till the daylight fled, 
Their pretty bower made such a light of day. 
A small one tumbling sang, ' Oh ! head ! ' 
The rest to comfort her straightway 
Seized on a branch and thumped down apples red. 

The tiny creature flashing through green grass, 
And laughing with her feet and eyes among 

Fresh apples, while a little lass 

Over as o'er breeze-ripples hung : 
That sight I saw, and passed as aliens pass. 



THE ORCHARD AND THE HEATH 141 

My footpath left the pleasant farms and lanes, 

Soft cottage-smoke, straight cocks a-crow, gay flowers ; 

Beyond the wheel-ruts of the wains, 

Across a heath I walked for hours, 
And met its rival tenants, rays and rains. 



Still in my view mile-distant firs appeared, 
When, under a patched channel-bank enriched 

With foxglove whose late bells drooped seared, 

Behold, a family had pitched 
Their camp, and labouring the low tent upreared. 

Here, too, were many children, quick to scan 

A new thing coming ; swarthy cheeks, white teeth : 

In many-coloured rags they ran, 

Like iron runlets of the heath. 
Dispersed lay broth-pot, sticks, and drinking-can. 

Three girls, with shoulders like a boat at sea 
Tipped sideways by the wave (their clothing slid 

From either ridge unequally), 

Lean, swift and voluble, bestrid 
A starting-point, unfrocked to the bent knee. 

They raced ; their brothers yelled them on, and broke 
In act to follow, but as one they snuffed 

Wood-fumes, and by the fire that spoke 

Of provender, its pale flame puffed, 
And rolled athwart dwarf furzes grey-blue smoke. 



142 THE 0RCHA11D AND THE HEATH 

Soon on the dark edge of a ruddier gleam, 
The mother-pot perusing, all, stretched flat, 

Paused for its bubbling-up supreme : 

A dog upright in circle sat, 
And oft his nose went with the flying steam. 

I turned and looked on heaven awhile, where now 
The moor-faced sunset broaden'd with red light j 
Threw high aloft a golden bough, 
And seemed the desert of the night 
Far down with mellow orchards to endow. 



EARTH AND MAN 



On her great venture, Man, 
Earth gazes while her fingers dint the breast 
Which is his well of strength, his home of rest, 
And fair to scan. 

ii 

More aid than that embrace, 
That nourishment, she cannot give : his heart 
Involves his fate ; and she who urged the start 
Abides the race. 

in 

For he is in the lists 

Contentious with the elements, whose dower 
First sprang him ; for swift vultures to devour 
If he desists. 

IV 

His breath of instant thirst 

Is warning of a creature matched with strife, 

To meet it as a bride, or let fall life 

On life's accursed. 



144 EAB.TH AND MAN 



No longer forth he bounds 

The lusty animal, afield to roam, 

But peering in Earth's entrails, where the gnome 

Strange themes propounds. 

VI 

By hunger sharply sped 
To grasp at weapons ere he learns their use, 
In each new ring he bears a giant's thews, 
Ad infant's head. 

VII 

And ever that old task 
Of reading what he is and whence he came, 
Whither to go, finds wilder letters flame 
Across her mask. 

VIII 

She hears his wailful prayer, 

When now to the Invisible he raves 

To rend him from her, now his mother craves 

Her calm, her care. 

IX 

The thing that shudders most 
Within him is the burden of his cry. 
Seen of his dread, she is to his blank eye 
The eyeless Ghost. 



EARTH AND MAN 145 



Or sometimes she will seem 
Heavenly, but her blush, soon wearing white, 
Veils like a gorsebush in a web of blight, 
With gold-buds dim. 

XI 

Once worshipped Prime of Powers, 

She still was the Implacable : as a beast, 

She struck him down and dragged him from the feast 

She crowned with flowers. 

XII 

Her pomp of glorious hues, 
Her revelries of ripeness, her kind smile, 
Her songs, her peeping faces, lure awhile 
With symbol-clues. 

XIII 

The mystery she holds 
For him, inveterately he strains to see, 
And sight of his obtuseness is the key 
Among those folds. 

XIV 

He may entreat, aspire, 

He may despair, and she has never heed. 

She drinking his warm sweat will soothe his need, 

Not his desire. 

10 



146 EARTH AND MAN 



XV 

She prompts him to rejoice, 
Yet scares him on the threshold with the shroud. 
He deems her cherishing of her best-endowed 
A wanton's choice. 

XVI 

Albeit thereof he has found 
Firm roadway between lustfulness and pain ; 
Has half transferred the battle to his brain, 
From bloody ground ; 

XVII 

He will not read her good, 
Or wise, but with the passion Self obscures ; 
Through that old devil of the thousand lures, 
Through that dense hood : 

XVIII 

Through terror, through distrust ; 
The greed to touch, to view, to have, to live : 
Through all that makes of him a sensitive 
Abhorring dust. 

XIX 

Behold his wormy home ! 

And he the wind-whipped, anywhither wave 

Crazily tumbled on a shingle-grave 

To waste in foam. 



EAKTH AND MAN 147 

XX 

Therefore the wretch inclines 
Afresh to the Invisible, who, he saith, 
Can raise him high : with vows of living faith 
For little signs. 

XXI 

Some signs he must demand, 

Some proofs of slaughtered nature ; some prized few, 

To satisfy the senses it is true, 

And in his hand, 

XXII 

This miracle which saves 
Himself, himself doth from extinction clutch, 
By virtue of his worth, contrasting much 
With brutes and knaves. 

XXIII 

From dust, of him abhorred, 

He would be snatched by Grace discovering worth. 

1 Sever me from the hollowness of earth ! 

Me take, dear Lord ! ' 

XXTV 

She hears him. Him she owes 

For half her loveliness a love well won 

By work that lights the shapeless and the dun, 

Their common foes. 



148 EARTH AND MAN 

XXV 

He builds the soaring spires, 
That sing his soul in stone : of her he draws, 
Though blind to her, by spelling at her laws, 
Her purest fires. 

XXVI 

Through him hath she exchanged, 
For the gold harvest-robes, the mural crown, 
Her haggard quarry-features and thick frown 
Where monsters ranged. 

XXVII 

And order, high discourse, 
And decency, than which is life less dear, 
She has of him : the lyre of language clear, 
Love's tongue and source. 

XXVIII 

She hears him, and can hear 
With glory in his gains by work achieved : 
With grief for grief that is the unperceived 
In her so near. 

XXIX 

If he aloft for aid 

Imploring storms, her essence is the spur. 

His cry to heaven is a cry to her 

He would evade. 



EARTH AND MAN 149 

XXX 

Not elsewhere can he tend. 

Those are her rules which bid him wash foul sins j 
Those her revulsions from the skull that grins 
To ape his end. 

XXXI 

And her desires are those 
For happiness, for lastingness, for light. 
'T is she who kindles in his haunting night 
The hoped dawn- rose. 

XXXII 

Fair fountains of the dark 
Daily she waves him, that his inner dream 
May clasp amid the glooms a springing beam, 
A quivering lark : 

XXXIII 

This life and her to know 
For Spirit : with awakenedness of glee 
To feel stern joy her origin: not he 
The child of woe. 

xxxiv 

But that the senses still 

Usurp the station of their issue mind, 

He would have burst the chrysalis of the blind : 

As yet he will ; 



150 EARTH AND MAN 

XXXV 

As yet lie will, she prays, 

Yet will when his distempered devil of Self ;- 

The glutton for her fruits, the wily elf 

In shifting rays ; — 

XXXVI 

That captain of the scorned ; 
The coveter of life in soul and shell, 
The fratricide, the thief, the infidel, 
The hoofed and horned ; — 

XXXVII 

He singularly doomed 

To what he execrates and writhes to shun ; — 
When fire has passed him vapour to the sun, 
And sun relumed, 

XXXVIII 

Then shall the horrid pall 

Be lifted, and a spirit nigh divine, 

' Live in thy offspring as I live in mine,' 

Will hear her call. 

XXXIX 

Whence looks he on a land 
Whereon his labour is a carven page; 
And forth from heritage to heritage 
Nought writ on sand. 



EARTH AND MAN 153 

XL 

His fables of the Above, 

And his gapped readings of the crown and sword, 

The hell detested and the heaven adored, 

The hate, the love, 

XLI 

The bright wing, the black hoof, 
He shall peruse, from Keason not disjoined, 
And never unfaith clamouring to be coined 
To faith by proof. 

XLII 

She her just Lord may view, 
Not he, her creature, till his soul has yearned 
With all her gifts to reach the light discerned 
Her spirit through. 

XLIII 

Then in him time shall run 
As in the hour that to young sunlight crows ; 
And — ' If thou hast good faith it can repose/ 
She tells her son. 



Meanwhile on him, her chief 
Expression, her great word of life, looks she ; 
Twi-minded of him, as the waxing tree, 
Or dated leaf. 



A BALLAD OF FAIK LADIES IN REVOLT 



See the sweet women, friend, that lean beneath 
The ever-falling fountain of green leaves 
Round the white bending stem, and like a wreath 
Of our most blushful flower shine trembling through, 
To teach philosophers the thirst of thieves : 
Is one for me ? is one for you ? 

ii 

- Fair sirs, we give you welcome, yield you place, 
And you shall choose among us which you will, 
Without the idle pastime of the chase, 

If to this treaty you can well agree : 
To wed our cause, and its high task fulfil. 
He who 's for us, for him are we ! 

in 

- Most gracious ladies, nigh when light has birth, 
A troop of maids, brown as burnt heather-bells, 
And rich with life as moss-roots breathe of earth 
In the first plucking of them, past us flew 

To labour, singing rustic ritornells : 

Had they a cause ? are they of you ? 



A BALLAD OF FAIR LADIES LN REVOLT 153 



IV 

■ Sirs, they are as unthinking armies are 
To thoughtful leaders, and our cause is theirs. 
When they know men they know the state of war: 
But now they dream like sunlight on a sea, 
And deem you hold the half of happy pairs. 
He who 's for us, for him are we ! 



■ Ladies, I listened to a ring of dames ; 
Judicial in the robe and wig ; secure 
As venerated portraits in their frames ; 
And they denounced some insurrection new 
Against sound laws which keep you good and pure. 
Are you of them ? are they of you ? 



VI 

Sirs, they are of us, as their dress denotes, 
And by as much : let them together chime : 
It is an ancient bell within their throats, 
Pulled by an aged ringer ; with what glee 
Befits the yellow yesterdays of time. 

He who 's for us, for him are we ! 



154 A JiALLAD OF FAIR LADIES IN EEVOLT 



VII 

— Sweet ladies, you with beauty, you with wit ; 
Dowered of all favours and all blessed things 
Whereat the ruddy torch of Love is lit ; 
Wherefore this vain and outworn strife renew, 
Which stays the tide no more than eddy-rings ? 
Who is for love must be for you. 



VIII 

The manners of the market, honest sirs, 
'T is hard to quit when you behold the wares. 
You natter us, or perchance our milliners 
You flatter ; so this vain and outworn She 
May still be the charmed snake to your soft airs ! 
A higher lord than Love claim we. 



IX 

One day, dear lady, missing the broad track, 
I came on a wood's border, by a mead, 
Where golden May ran up to moted black : 
And there I saw Queen Beauty hold review, 
With Love before her throne in act to plead. 
Take him for me, take her for you. 



A BALLAD OF FAIE, LADIES IN REVOLT 155 



Ingenious gentleman, the tale is known. 
Love pleaded sweetly : Beauty would not melt : 
She would not melt : he turned in wrath : her throne 
The shadow of his back froze witheringly, 
And sobbing at his feet Queen Beauty knelt. 
not such slaves of Love are we ! 



XI 

• Love, lady, like the star above that lance 
Of radiance flung by sunset on ridged cloud, 
Sad as the last line of a brave romance ! — 
Young Love hung dim, yet quivering round him threw 
Beams of fresh fire while Beauty waned and bowed. 
Scorn Love, and dread the doom for you. 



XII 

■ Called she not for her mirror, sir ? Forth ran 
Her women : I am lost, she cried, when lo, 
Love in the form of an admiring man 
Once more in adoration bent the knee 
And brought the faded Pagan to full blow : 

For which her throne she gave : not we ! 



156 A BALLAD OF FAIR LADIES IN BEVOLT 



XIII 



My version, madam, runs not to that end. 

A certain madness of an hour half past, 

Caught her like fever : her just lord no friend 

She fancied ; aimed beyond beauty, and thence grew 

The prim acerbity, sweet Love's outcast. 

Great heaven ward off that stroke from you ! 



XIV 

Your prayer to heaven, good sir, is generous : 
How generous likewise that you do not name 
Offended nature ! She from all of us 
Couched idle underneath our showering tree, 
May quite withhold her most destructive flame ; 
And then what woeful women we ! 



xv 

— Quite, could not be, fair lady ; yet your 3 r outh 
May run to drought in visionary schemes : 
And a late waking to perceive the truth, 
When day falls shrouding her supreme adieu, 
Shows darker wastes than unaccomplished dreams : 
And that may be in store for you. 



A BALLAD OF FAIR LADIES IJSt ItEVOLT 157 



XVI 

sir, the truth, the truth ! is 't in the skies, 
Or in the grass, or in this heart of ours ? 
But the truth, the truth ! the many eyes 
That look on it ! the diverse things they see, 
According to their thirst for fruit or flowers ! 
Pass on : it is the truth seek we. 



XVII 

Lady, there is a truth of settled laws 

That down the past burns like a great watch-fire. 

Let youth hail changeful mornings ; but your cause, 

Whetting its edge to cut the race in two, 

Is felony : you forfeit the bright lyre, 

Much honour and much glory you ! 



XVIII 

Sir, was it glory, was it honour, pride, 
And not as cat and serpent and poor slave, 
Wherewith we walked in union by your side ? 
Spare to false womanliness her delicacy, 
Or bid true manliness give ear, we crave : 
In our defence thus chained are we. 



158 A BALLAD OF FAIR LADIES IN REVOLT 



XIX 



— Yours, madam, were the privileges of life 
Proper to man's ideal ; you were the mark 
Of action, and the banner in the strife : 
Yea, of your very weakness once you drew 
The strength that sounds the wells, outflies the lark : 
Wrapped in a robe of flame were you ! 



xx 

• Your friend looks thoughtful. Sir, when we were chill, 
You clothed us warmly ; all in honour ! when 
We starved you fed us ; all in honour still : 
Oh, all in honour, ultra-honourably ! 
Deep is the gratitude we owe to men, 
For privileged indeed were we ! 



XXI 

You cite exceptions, madam, that are sad, 
But come in the red struggle of our growth, 
Alas, that I should have to say it ! bad 
Is two-sexed upon earth : this which you do, 
Shows animal impatience, mental sloth : 

Man monstrous, pining seraphs you ! 



A BALLAD OF FAIR LADIES IjST REVOLT 159 



XXII 

I fain would ask your friend . . . but I will ask 
You, sir, how if in place of numbers vague, 
Your sad exceptions were to break that mask 
They wear for your cool mind historically, 
And blaze like black lists of a present plague ? 
But in that light behold them we. 



XXIII 

Your spirit breathes a mist upon our world, 

Lady, and like a rain to pierce the roof 

And drench the bed where toil-tossed man lies curled 

In his hard-earned oblivion ! You are few, 

Scattered, ill-counselled, blinded : for a proof, 

I have lived, and have known none like you. 



XXIV 

• We may be blind to men, sir : we embrace 
A future now beyond the fowler's nets. 
Though few, we hold a promise for the race 
That was not at our rising: you are free 
To win brave mates ; you lose but marionnettes. 
He who 's for us, for him are we. 



160 A BALLAD OF FAIR LADIES IN EEVOLT 



XXV 

— Ah ! madam, were they puppets who withstood 
Youth's cravings for adventure to preserve 
The dedicated ways of womanhood ? 
The light which leads us from the paths of rue, 
That light above us, never seen to swerve, 

Should be the home-lamp trimmed by you. 



XXVI 

— Ah ! sir, our worshipped posture we perchance 
Shall not abandon, though we see not how, 
Being to that lamp-post fixed, we may advance 
Beside our lords in any real degree, 
Unless we move : and to advance is now 

A sovereign need, think more than we. 



XXVII 

— So push you out of harbour in small craft, 
With little seamanship; and comes a gale, 
The world will laugh, the world has often laughed, 
Lady, to see how bold when skies are blue, 
When black winds churn the deeps how panic-pale, 
How swift to the old nest fly you ! 



A BALLAD OF FAIR LADIES IN REVOLT 161 



XXVIII 

- What thinks your friend, kind sir ? We have escaped 
But partly that old half-tamed wild beast's paw 
Whereunder woman, the weak thing, was shaped : 
Men too have known the cramping enemy 
In grim brute force, whom force of brain shall awe : 
Him our deliverer, await we ! 



XXIX 

-Delusions are with eloquence endowed, 
And yours might pluck an angel from the spheres 
To play in this revolt whereto you are vowed, 
Deliverer, lady ! but like summer dew 
O'er fields that crack for rain your friends drop tears, 
Who see the awakening for you. 



XXX 

- Is he our friend, there silent ? he weeps not. 
sir, delusion mounting like a sun 
On a mind blank as the white wife of Lot, 
Giving it warmth and movement ! if this be 
Delusion, think of what thereby was won 

For men, and dream of what win we. 



11 



162 A BALLAD OF FAUt LADIES IN EEVOLT 



XXXI 

— Lady, the destiny of minor powers, 
Who would recast us, is but to convulse : 
You enter on a strife that frets and sours ; 
You can but win sick disappointment's hue ; 
And simply an accelerated pulse, 

Some tonic you have drunk moves you. 



XXXII 

— Thinks your friend so ? Good sir, your wit is bright ; 
But wit that strives to speak the popular voice, 
Puts on its nightcap and puts out its light ; 
Curfew, would seem your conqueror's decree 
To women likewise: and we have no choice 
Save darkness or rebellion, we ! 



XXXIII 

— A plain safe intermediate way is cleft 
By reason foiling passion : you that rave 
Of mad alternatives to right and left 
Echo the tempter, madam : and 't is due 
Unto your sex to shun it as the grave, 
This later apple offered you. 



A BALLAD OF FAIR LADIES IN REVOLT 163 



XXXIV 

- This apple is not ripe, it is not sweet ; 
Nor rosy, sir, nor golden : eye and mouth 
Are little wooed by it ; yet we would eat. 
We are somewhat tired of Eden, is our plea. 
We have thirsted long ; this apple suits our drouth : 
; T is good for men to halve, think we. 



XXXV 

— But say, what seek you, madam ? 'T is enough 
That you should have dominion o'er the springs 
Domestic and man's heart: those ways, how rough, 
How vile, outside the stately avenue 
Where you walk sheltered by your angel's wings, 
Are happily unknown to you. 



XXXVI 

- We hear women's shrieks on them. We like your phrase, 
Dominion domestic ! And that roar, 
' What seek you ? ' is of tyrants in all days. 
Sir, get you something of our purity, 
And we will of your strength : we ask no more. 
That is the sum of what seek we. 



164 A BALLAD OP FAIR, LADIES LN REVOLT 



XXXVII 

- for an image, madam, in one word, 
To show you as the lightning night reveals, 
Your error and your perils : you have erred 
In mind only, and the perils that ensue 
Swift heels may soften ; wherefore to swift heels 
Address your hopes of safety you ! 



XXXVIII 

- To err in mind, sir . . . your friend smiles : he may ! 
To err in mind, if err in mind we can, 
Is grievous error you do well to stay. 
But how different from reality 
Men's fiction is ! how like you in the plan, 
Is woman, knew you her as we ! 



XXXIX 

— Look, lady, where yon river winds its line 
Toward sunset, and receives on breast and face 
The splendour of fair life : to be divine, 
'T is nature bids you be to nature true, 
Flowing with beauty, lending earth your grace, 
Reflecting heaven in clearness you. 



A BALLAD OF FAIR LADIES IN REVOLT 165 



XL 

- Sir, you speak well : your friend no word vouchsafes. 
To flow with beauty, breeding fools and worse, 
Cowards and worse : at such fair life she chafes 
Who is not wholly of the nursery, 
Nor of your schools : we share the primal curse ; 
Together shake it off, say we ! 



XLI 

- Here, then, my friend, madam ! Tongue-restrained he 

stands 
Till words are thoughts, and thoughts, like swords 

enriched 
With traceries of the artificer's hands, 
Are fire-proved steel to cut, fair flowers to view. — 
Do I hear him? Oh, he is bewitched, bewitched ! 
Heed him not ! Traitress beauties you ! 



XLII 

• We have won a champion, sisters, and a sage ! 
Ladies, you win a guest to a good feast ! 

Sir spokesman, sneers are weakness veiling rage. 
Of weakness, and wise men, you have the key. 

• Then are there fresher mornings mounting East 

Than ever yet have dawned, sing we ! 



166 A BALLAD OF FAIR LADIES IN REVOLT 



XLIII 

— False ends as false began, madam, be sure I 

— What lure there is the pure cause purifies ! 

— Who purifies the victim of the lure ? 

— That soul which bids us our high light pursue. 

— Some heights are measured down : the wary wise 

Shun Eeason in the masque with you I 



XLIV 

— Sir, for the friend you bring us, take our thanks. 
Yes, Beauty was of old this barren goal ; 
A thing with claws ; and brute-like in her pranks ! 
But could she give more loyal guarantee 
Than wooing wisdom, that in her a soul 

Has risen ? Adieu : content are we ! 



XLV 

Those ladies led their captive to the flood's 
Green edge. He floating with them seemed the most 
Fool-flushed old noddy ever crowned with buds. 
Happier than I ! Then, why not wiser too ? 
For he that lives with Beauty, he may boast 
His comrade over me and you. 



A BALLAD OF FAIR LADIES IN REVOLT 167 



XLVI 

Have women nursed some dream since Helen sailed 
Over the sea of blood the blushing star, 
That beauty, whom frail man as Goddess hailed, 
When not possessing her (for such is he !), 
Might in a wondering season seen afar, 

Be tamed to say not ' I,' but ' we ' ? 



XL VII 

And shall they make of Beauty their estate, 
The fortress and the weapon of their sex ? 
Shall she in her frost-brilliancy dictate, 
More queenly than of old, how we must woo, 
Ere she will melt ? The halter 's on our necks, 
Kick as it likes us, I and you. 



XLVIII 

Certain it is, if Beauty has disdained 
Her ancient conquests, with an aim thus high : 
If this, if that, if more, the fight is gained. 
But can she keep her followers without fee ? 
Yet ah ! to hear anew those ladies cry, 
He who 's for us, for him are we ! 



JUGGLING JEEEY 



Pitch here the tent, while the old horse grazes : 

By the old hedge-side we '11 halt a stage. 
It 's nigh my last above the daisies : 

My next leaf '11 be man's blank page. 
Yes, my old girl ! and it 's no use crying : 

Juggler, constable, king, must bow. 
One that out juggles all 's been spying 

Long to have me, and he has me now. 



ii 



We 've travelled times to this old common 

Often we 've hung our pots in the gorse. 
We 've had a stirring life, old woman ! 

You, and I, and the old grey horse. 
Kaces, and fairs, and royal occasions, 

Found us coming to their call : 
Now they '11 miss us at our stations : 

There 's a Juggler outjuggles all ! 



JUGGLING JERRY 169 

III 

Up goes the lark, as if all were jolly ! 

Over the duck-pond the willow shakes. 
Easy to think that grieving 's folly, 

When the hand 's firm as driven stakes ! 
Ay, when we 're strong, and braced, and manful, 

Life 's a sweet fiddle : but we 're a batch 
Born to become the Great Juggler's han'ful: 

Balls he shies up, and is safe to catch. 

IV 

Here 's where the lads of the village cricket : 

I was a lad not wide from here : 
Could n't I whip off the bale from the wicket ? 

Like an old world those days appear ! 
Donkey, sheep, geese, and thatched ale-house — I know 
them ! 

They are old friends of my halts, and seem, 
Somehow, as if kind thanks I owe them : 

Juggling don't hinder the heart's esteem. 



Juggling 's no sin, for we must have victual : 

Nature allows us to bait for the fool. 
Holding one's own makes us juggle no little ; 

But, to increase it, hard juggling 's the rule. 
You that are sneering at my profession, 

Have n't you juggled a vast amount ? 
There 's the Prime Minister, in one Session, 

Juggles more games than my sins '11 count. 



170 JUGGLING JERRY 



VI 



I 've murdered insects with mock thunder : 

Conscience, for that, in men don't quail. 
1 've made bread from the bump of wonder : 

That 's my business, and there 's my tale. 
Fashion and rank all praised the professor : 

Ay ! and I 've had my smile from the Queen 
Bravo, Jerry ! she meant : God bless her ! 

Ain't this a sermon on that scene ? 



VII 

I 've studied men from my topsy-turvy 

Close, and, I reckon, rather true. 
Some are fine fellows : some, right scurvy : 

Most, a dash between the two. 
But it 's a woman, old girl, that makes me 

Think more kindly of the race : 
And it 's a woman, old girl, that shakes me 

When the Great Juggler I must face. 

VIII 

We two were married, due and legal : 

Honest we 've lived since we 've been one. 
Lord! I could then jump like an eagle : 

You danced bright as a bit o' the sun. 
Birds in a May-bush we were ! right merry ! 

All night we kiss'd, we juggled all day. 
Joy was the heart of Juggling Jerry ! 

Now from his old girl he 's juggled away. 



JUGGLING JEKRY 171 



IX 

It 's past parsons to console us : 

No, nor no doctor fetch for me : 
I can die without my bolus ; 

Two of a trade, lass, never agree ! 
Parson and Doctor ! — don't they love rarely, 

Fighting the devil in other men's fields ! 
Stand up yourself and match him fairly : 

Then see how the rascal yields ! 



I, lass, have lived no gipsy, flaunting 

Finery while his poor helpmate grubs : 
Coin I 've stored, and you won't be wanting : 

You sha'n't beg from the troughs and tubs. 
Nobly you 've stuck to me, though in his kitchen 

Many a Marquis would hail you Cook ! 
Palaces you could have ruled and grown rich in, 

But your old Jerry you never forsook. 



Hand up the chirper ! ripe ale winks in it ; 

Let 's have comfort and be at peace. 
Once a stout draught made me light as a linnet. 

Cheer up ! the Lord must have his lease. 
May be — for none see in that black hollow — 

It 's just a place where we 're held in pawn, 
And, when the Great Juggler makes as to swallow, 

It 's just the sword-trick — I ain't quite gone ! 



172 JUGGLING JERRY 

XII 

Yonder came smells of the gorse, so nutty, 

Gold-like and warm : it 's the prime of May. 
Better than mortar, brick and putty, 

Is God's house on a blowing day. 
Lean me more up the mound ; now I feel it : 

All the old heath-smells ! Ain't it strange ? 
There 's the world laughing, as if to conceal it, 

But He 's by us, juggling the change. 

XIII 

I mind it well, by the sea-beach lying, 

Once — it 's long gone — when two gulls we beheld, 
Which, as the moon got up, were flying 

Down a big wave that sparked and swelled. 
Crack, went a gun : one fell : the second 

Wheeled round him twice, and was off for new luck : 
There in the dark her white wing beckon'd : — 

Drop me a kiss — I 'm the bird dead-struck ! 



THE OLD CHAETIST 



Whate'er I be, old England is my dam ! 

So there 's my answer to the judges, clear. 
I 'm nothing of a fox, nor of a lamb ; 

I don't know how to bleat nor how to leer : 

I 'm for the nation ! 
That 's why you see me by the wayside here, 
Beturning home from transportation. 



ii 

It 's Summer in her bath this morn, I think. 

I 'm fresh as dew, and chirpy as the birds : 
And just for joy to see old England wink 

Thro' leaves again, I could harangue the herds : 

Is n't it something 
To speak out like a man when you 've got words, 
And prove you 're not a stupid dumb thing ? 



174 THE OLD CHARTIST 



III 



They shipp'd me off for it ; I 'm here again. 

Old England is my dam, whate'er I be ! 
Says I, I '11 tramp it home, and see the grain : 
If you see well, you 're king of what you see : 

Eyesight is having, 
If you 're not given, I said, to gluttony. 
Such talk to ignorance sounds as raving. 



IV 

You dear old brook, that from his Grace's park 

Come bounding ! on you run near my old town 
My lord can't lock the water ; nor the lark, 
Unless he kills him, can my lord keep down. 

Up, is the song-note ! 
I 've tried it, too : — for comfort and renown, 
I rather pitch'd upon the wrong note. 



I 'm not ashamed : Not beaten 's still my boast : 

Again I '11 rouse the people up to strike. 
But home 's where different politics jar most. 
Kespectability the women like. 

This form, or that form, — 
The Government may be hungry pike, 
But don't you mount a Chartist platform ! 



THE OLD CHARTIST 175 

VI 

Well, well ! Not beaten — spite of them, I shout ; 

And my estate is suffering for the Cause. — 
No, — what is yon brown water-rat about, 
Who washes his old poll with busy paws ? 

What does he mean by 't ? 
It 's like defying all our natural laws, 

For him to hope that he '11 get clean by *t. 



VII 

His seat is on a mud-bank, and his trade 

Is dirt : — he 's quite contemptible ; and yet 
The fellow 's all as anxious as a maid 
To show a decent dress, and dry the wet. 

Now it 's his whisker, 
And now his nose, and ear : he seems to get 
Each moment at the motion brisker ! 



VIII 

To see him squat like little chaps at school, 
I could let fly a laugh with all my might. 
He peers, hangs both his fore-paws : — bless that fool, 
He 's bobbing at his frill now ! — what a sight ! 

Licking the dish up, 
As if he thought to pass from black to white, 
Like parson into lawny bishop. 



176 THE OLD CHARTIST 



IX 

The elms and yellow reed-flags in the sun, 

Look on quite grave : — the sunlight flecks his side ; 
And links of bindweed-flowers round him run, 
And shine up doubled with him in the tide. 

I 'm nearly splitting, 
But nature seems like seconding his pride, 
And thinks that his behaviour 's fitting. 



That isle o' mud looks baking dry with gold. 

His needle-muzzle still works out and in. 
It really is a wonder to behold, 

And makes me feel the bristles of my chin. 

Judged by appearance, 
I fancy of the two I 'm nearer Sin, 
And might as well commence a clearance. 



XI 

And that's what my fine daughter said: — she meant : 

Pray, hold your tongue, and wear a Sunday face. 
Her husband, the young linendraper, spent 
Much argument thereon : — I'm their disgrace. 

Bother the couple ! 
I feel superior to a chap whose place 
Commands him to be neat and supple. 



THE OLD CHARTIST 177 

XII 

But if I go and say to my old hen : 

I '11 mend the gentry's boots, and keep discreet, 
Until they grow too violent, — why, then, 
A warmer welcome I might chance to meet : 

Warmer and better. 
And if she fancies her old cock is beat, 
And drops upon her knees — so let her ! 



XIII 

She suffered for me : — women, you '11 observe, 

Don't suffer for a Cause, but for a man. 
When I was in the dock she show'd her nerve : 
I saw beneath her shawl my old tea-can. 

Trembling ... she brought it 
To screw me for my work : she loath'd my plan, 
And therefore doubly kind I thought it. 



XIV 

I 've never lost the taste of that same tea : 

That liquor on my logic floats like oil, 
When I state facts, and fellows disagree. 
For human creatures all are in a coil ; 

All may want pardon. 
I see a day when every pot will boil 
Harmonious in one great Tea-garden ! 

12 



178 THE OLD CHARTIST 

XV 

We wait the setting of the Dandy's day, 

Before that time ! — He 's furbishing his dress, ■ 
He will be ready for it ! — and I say, 

That yon old dandy rat amid the cress, — 

Thanks to hard labour ! — 
If cleanliness is next to godliness, 
The old fat fellow 's heaven's neighbour ! 



XVI 

You teach me a fine lesson, my old boy ! 

I 've looked on my superiors far too long, 
And small has been my profit as my joy. 

You 've done the right while I 've denounced the wrong 

Prosper me later ! 
Like you I will despise the sniggering throng, 
And please myself and my Creator. 



XVII 

I '11 bring the linendraper and his wife 

Some day to see you ; taking off my hat. 
Should they ask why, I '11 answer : in my life 
I never found so true a democrat. 

Base occupation 
Can't rob you of your own esteem, old rat ! 
I '11 preach you to the British nation. 



MARTIN'S PUZZLE 



Theke she goes up the street with her book in her hand, 

And her Good morning, Martin ! Ay, lass, how d' ye do ? 
Very well, thank you, Martin ! — I can't understand ! 

I might just as well never have cobbled a shoe ! 
I can't understand it. She talks like a song ; 

Her voice takes your ear like the ring of a glass ; 
She seems to give gladness while limping along, 

Yet sinner ne'er suffer'd like that little lass. 



ii 

First, a fool of a boy ran her down with a cart. 

Then, her fool of a father — a blacksmith by trade — 
Why the deuce does he tell us it half broke his heart ? 

His heart ! — where 's the leg of the poor little maid ! 
Well, that 's not enough ; they must push her downstairs, 

To make her go crooked : but why count the list ? 
If it 's right to suppose that our human affairs 

Are all order'd by heaven — there, bang goes my fist ! 



180 martin's puzzle 



in 



For if angels can look on such sights — never mind! 

When you 're next to blaspheming, it 's best to be mum. 
The parson declares that her woes were n't designed ; 

But, then, with the parson it 's all kingdom-come. 
Lose a leg, save a soul — a convenient text ; 

I call it Tea doctrine, not savouring of God. 
When poor little Molly wants ' chastening,' why, next 

The Archangel Michael might taste of the rod. 



IV 



But, to see the poor darling go limping for miles 

To read books to sick people ! — and just of an age 
When girls learn the meaning of ribands and smiles ! 

Makes me feel like a squirrel that turns in a cage. 
The more I push thinking the more I revolve : 

I never get farther : — and as to her face, 
It starts up when near on my puzzle I solve, 

And says, • This crush'd body seems such a sad case.' 



Not that she 's for complaining : she reads to earn pence ; 

And from those who can't pay, simple thanks are enough. 
Does she leave lamentation for chaps without sense ? 

Howsoever, she 's made up of wonderful stuff. 
Ay, the soul in her body must be a stout cord ; 

She sings little hymns at the close of the day, 
Though she has but three fingers to lift to the Lord, 

And only one leg to kneel down with to pray. 



martin's puzzle 181 



VI 

What I ask is, Why persecute such a poor dear, 

If there 's Law above all ? Answer that if you can ! 
Irreligious I 'm not ; but I look on this sphere 

As a place where a man should just think like a man. 
It is n't fair dealing! But, contrariwise, 

Do bullets in battle the wicked select ? 
Why, then it 's all chance-work ! And yet, in her eyes, 

She holds a fixed something by which I am checked. 

VII 

Yonder riband of sunshine aslope on the wall, 

If you eye it a minute '11 have the same look : 
So kind ! and so merciful ! God of us all ! 

It 's the very same lesson we get from the Book. 
Then, is Life but a trial ? Is that what is meant ? 

Some must toil, and some perish, for others below: 
The injustice to each spreads a common content ; 

Ay ! I 've lost it again, for it can't be quite so. 

VIII 

She 's the victim of fools : that seems nearer the mark. 

On earth there are engines and numerous fools. 
Why the Lord can permit them, we 're still in the dark; 

He does, and in some sort of way they're his tools. 
It 's a roundabout way, with respect let me add, 

If Molly goes crippled that we may be taught : 
But, perhaps, it 's the only way, though it 's so bad ; 

In that case we '11 bow down our heads, — as we ought. 



182 MARTIN'S PUZZLE 



IX 

But the worst of me is, that when I bow my head, 

I perceive a thought wriggling away in the dust, 
And I follow its tracks, quite forgetful, instead 

Of humble acceptance : for, question I must ! 
Here 's a creature made carefully — carefully made ! 

Put together with craft, and then stamped on, and why ? 
The answer seems nowhere : it 's discord that 's played. 

The sky 's a blue dish ! — an implacable sky ! 



Stop a moment. I seize an idea from the pit. 

They tell us that discord, though discord, alone, 
Can be harmony when the notes properly fit : 

Ami judging all things from a single false tone ? 
Is the Universe one immense Organ, that rolls 

From devils to angels ? I ? m blind with the sight. 
It pours such a splendour on heaps of poor souls ! 

I might try at kneeling with Molly to-night. 



MARIAN 



She can be as wise as we, 

And wiser when she wishes ; 
She can knit with cunning wit, 

And dress the homely dishes. 
She can nourish staff or pen, 

And deal a wound that lingers ; 
She can talk the talk of men, 

And touch with thrilling fingers. 



ii 

Match her ye across the sea, 

Natures fond and fiery ; 
Ye who zest the turtle's nest 

With the eagle's eyrie. 
Soft and loving is her soul, 

Swift and lofty soaring ; 
Mixing with its dove-like dole 

Passionate adoring. 



184 MARIAN 



III 



Such a she who '11 match with me ? 

In flying or pursuing, 
Subtle wiles are in her smiles 

To set the world a-wooing. 
She is steadfast as a star, 

And yet the maddest maiden : 
She can wage a gallant war, 

And give the peace of Eden. 



SONNETS 185 



SONNETS 



LUCIFER IN STARLIGHT 

On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose. 
Tired of his dark dominion swung the fiend 
Above the rolling ball in cloud part screened, 
"Where sinners hugged their spectre of repose. 
Poor prey to his hot fit of pride were those. 
And now upon his western wing he leaned, 
Now his huge bulk o'er Afric's sands careened, 
Now the black planet shadowed Arctic snows. 
Soaring through wider zones that pricked his scars 
With memory of the old revolt from Awe, 
He reached a middle height, and at the stars, 
Which are the brain of heaven, he looked, and sank. 
Around the ancient track marched, rank on rank, 
The army of unalterable law. 



186 SONNETS 



THE STAR SIRIUS 

Bright Sirius ! that when Orion pales 

To dotlings under moonlight still art keen 

With cheerful fervour of a warrior's mien 

Who holds in his great heart the battle-scales : 

Unquenched of flame though swift the flood assails, 

Reducing many lustrous to the lean : 

Be thou my star, and thou in me be seen 

To show what source divine is, and prevails. 

Long watches through, at one with godly night, 

I mark thee planting joy in constant fire ; 

And thy quick beams, whose jets of life inspire 

Life to the spirit, passion for the light, 

Dark Earth since first she lost her lord from sight 

Has viewed and felt them sweep her as a lyre. 



SONNETS 187 



SENSE AND SPIEIT 

The senses loving Earth or well or ill, 

Eavel yet more the riddle of our lot. 

The mind is in their trammels, and lights not 

By trimming fear -bred tales ; nor does the will 

To find in nature things which less may chill 

An ardour that desires, unknowing what. 

Till we conceive her living we go distraught, 

At best but circle-windsails of a mill. 

Seeing she lives, and of her joy of life 

Creatively has given us blood and breath 

For endless war and never wound unhealed, 

The gloomy Wherefore of our battle-field 

Solves in the Spirit, wrought of her through strife 

To read her own and trust her down to death. 



188 SONNETS 



EARTH'S SECRET 

Not solitarily in fields we find 

Earth's secret open, though one page is there; 

Her plainest, such as children spell, and share 

With bird and beast ; raised letters for the blind. 

Not where the troubled passions toss the mind, 

In turbid cities, can the key be bare. 

It hangs for those who hither thither fare, 

Close interthreading nature with our kind. 

They, hearing History speak, of what men were, 

And have become, are wise. The gain is great 

In vision and solidity ; it lives. 

Yet at a thought of life apart from her, 

Solidity and vision lose their state, 

For Earth, that gives the milk, the spirit gives. 



SONNETS 189 



THE SPIRIT OF SHAKESPEARE 

Thy greatest knew thee, Mother Earth ; unsoured 
He knew thy sons. He probed from hell to hell 
Of human passions, but of love deflowered 
His wisdom was not, for he knew thee well. 
Thence came the honeyed corner at his lips, 
The conquering smile wherein his spirit sails 
Calm as the God who the white sea-wave whips, 
Yet full of speech and intershifting tales, 
Close mirrors of us : thence had he the laugh 
We feel is thine : broad as ten thousand beeves 
At pasture ! thence thy songs, that winnow chaff 
From grain, bid sick Philosophy's last leaves 
Whirl, if they have no response — they enforced 
To fatten Earth when from her soul divorced. 



190 SONNETS 



THE SPIRIT OF SHAKESPEARE {continued) 

How smiles he at a generation ranked 
In gloomy noddings over life ! They pass. 
Not he to feed upon a breast unthanked, 
Or eye a beauteous face in a cracked glass. 
But he can spy that little twist of brain 
Which moved some weighty leader of the blind, 
Unwitting 't was the goad of personal pain, 
To view in curst eclipse our Mother's mind, 
And show us of some rigid harridan 
The wretched bondmen till the end of time. 
lived the Master now to paint us Man, 
That little twist of brain would ring a chime 
Of whence it came and what it caused, to start 
Thunders of laughter, clearing air and heart. 



SONNETS 191 



INTEENAL HAEMONY 

Assured of worthiness we do not dread 
Competitors ; we rather give them hail 
And greeting in the lists where we may fail : 
Must, if we bear an aim beyond the head ! 
My betters are my masters : purely fed 
By their sustainment I likewise shall scale 
Some rocky steps between the mount and vale ; 
Meanwhile the mark I have and I will wed. 
So that I draw the breath of finer air, 
Station is nought, nor footways laurel-strewn, 
Nor rivals tightly belted for the race. 
Good speed to them ! My place is here or there ; 
My pride is that among them I have place : 
And thus I keep this instrument in tune. 



192 SONNETS 



GEACE AND LOVE 

Two flower-enfolding crystal vases she 

I love fills daily, mindful but of one : 

And close behind pale morn she, like the sun 

Priming our world with light, pours, sweet to see, 

Clear water in the cup, and into me 

The image of herself : and that being done, 

Choice of what blooms round her fair garden run 

In climbers or in creepers or the tree, 

She ranges with unerring fingers fine, 

To harmony so vivid that through sight 

I hear, I have her heavenliness to fold 

Beyond the senses, where such love as mine, 

Such grace as hers, should the strange Fates withhold 

Their starry more from her and me, unite. 



SONNETS 193 



APPKECIATION 

Earth was not Earth before her sons appeared, 
Nor Beauty Beauty ere young Love was born : 
And thou when I lay hidden wast as morn 
At city-windows, touching eyelids bleared ; 
To none by her fresh wingedness endeared ; 
Unwelcome unto revellers outworn. 
I the last echoes of Diana's horn 
In woodland heard, and saw thee come, and cheered. 
No longer wast thou then mere light, fair soul ! 
And more than simple duty moved thy feet. 
New colours rose in thee, from fear, from shame, 
From hope, effused : though not less pure a scroll 
May men read on the heart I taught to beat : 
That change in thee, if not thyself, I claim. 



J« 



194 SONNETS 



THE DISCIPLINE OF WISDOM 

Rich labour is the struggle to be wise, 
While we make sure the struggle cannot cease. 
Else better were it in some bower of peace 
Slothful to swing, contending with the flies. 
You point at Wisdom fixed on lofty skies, 
As mid barbarian hordes a sculptured Greece : 
She falls. To live and shine, she grows her fleece, 
Is shorn, and rubs with follies and with lies. 
So following her, your hewing may attain 
The right to speak unto the mute, and shun 
That sly temptation of the illumined brain, 
Deliveries oracular, self-spun. 
Who sweats not with the flock will seek in vain 
To shed the words which are ripe fruit of sun. 



SONNETS 195 



THE STATE OF AGE 

Rub thou thy battered lamp : nor claim nor beg 

Honours from aught about thee. Light the young. 

Thy frame is as a dusty mantle hung, 

grey one ! pendant on a loosened peg. 

Thou art for this our life an ancient egg, 

Or a tough bird : thou hast a rudderless tongue, 

Turning dead trifles, like the cock of dung ; 

Which runs, Time's contrast to thy halting leg. 

Nature, it is most sure, not thee admires. 

But hast thou in thy season set her fires 

To burn from Self to Spirit through the lash, 

Honoured the sons of Earth shall hold thee high: 

Yea, to spread light when thy proud letter I 

Drops prone and void as any thoughtless dash. 



196 SONNETS 



PEOGEESS 

In Progress you have little faith, say you : 

Men will maintain dear interests, wreak base hates, 

By force, and gentle women choose their mates 

Most amorously from the gilded fighting crew : 

The human heart Bellona's mad halloo 

Will ever fire to dicing with the Fates. 

' Now at this time,' says History, ' those two States 

' Stood ready their past wrestling to renew. 

' They sharpened arms and showed them, like the brutes 

1 Whose haunches quiver. But a yellow blight 

Tell on their waxing harvests. They deferred 

' The bloody settlement of their disputes 

1 Till God should bless them better.' They did right. 

And naming Progress, both shall have the word. 



SONNETS 197 



THE WORLD'S ADVANCE 

Judge mildly the tasked world ; and disincline 

To brand it, for it bears a heavy pack. 

You have perchance observed the inebriate's track 

At night when he has quitted the inn-sign : 

He plays diversions on the homeward line, 

Still that way bent albeit his legs are slack : 

A hedge may take him, but he turns not back, 

Nor turns this burdened world, of curving spine. 

' Spiral,' the memorable Lady terms 

Our mind's ascent : our world's advance presents 

That figure on a flat ; the way of worms. 

Cherish the promise of its good intents, 

And warn it, not one instinct to efface 

Ere Reason ripens for the vacant place. 



198 SONNETS 



A CEETAIN PEOPLE 

As Puritans they prominently wax, 

And none more kindly gives and takes hard knocks. 

Strong psalmic chanting, like to nasal cocks, 

They join to thunderings of their hearty thwacks. 

But naughtiness, with hoggery, not lacks 

When Peace another door in them unlocks, 

Where conscience shows the eyeing of an ox 

Grown dully apprehensive of an Axe. 

Graceless they are when gone to frivolousness, 

Fearing the God they flout, the God they glut. 

They need their pious exercises less 

Than schooling in the Pleasures : fair belief 

That these are devilish only to their thief, 

Charged with an Axe nigh on the occiput. 



SONNETS 199 



THE GAEDEN OF EPICUEUS 

That Garden of sedate Philosophy 

Once flourished, fenced from passion and mishap, 

A shining spot upon a shaggy map ; 

Where mind and body, in fair junction free, 

Luted their joyful concord ; like the tree 

From root to flowering twigs a flowing sap. 

Clear Wisdom found in tended Nature's lap, 

Of gentlemen the happy nursery. 

That Garden would on light supremest verge, 

Were the long drawing of an equal breath 

Healthful for Wisdom's head, her heart, her aims. 

Our world which for its Babels wants a scourge, 

And for its wilds a husbandman, acclaims 

The crucifix that came of Nazareth. 



200 SONNETS 



A LATER ALEXANDRIAN 

An inspiration caught from dubious hues, 

Filled him, and mystic wrynesses he chased; 

For they lead farther than the single-faced, 

Wave subtler promise when desire pursues. 

The moon of cloud discoloured was his Muse, 

His pipe the reed of the old moaning waste. 

Love was to him with anguish fast enlaced, 

And Beauty where she walked blood-shot the dews. 

Men railed at such a singer ; women thrilled 

Responsively : he sang not Nature's own 

Divinest, but his lyric had a tone, 

As 't were a forest-echo of her voice : 

What barrenly they yearn for seemed distilled 

From what they dread, who do through tears rejoice. 



SONKETS 201 



AN OKSON OF THE MUSE 

Her son, albeit the Muse's livery 

And measured courtly paces rouse his taunts, 

Naked and hairy in his savage haunts, 

To Nature only will he bend the knee ; 

Spouting the founts of her distillery 

Like rough rock-sources ; and his woes and wants, 

Being Nature's, civil limitation daunts 

His utterance never ; the nymphs blush, not he. 

Him, when he blows of Earth, and Man, and Fate, 

The Muse will hearken to with graver ear 

Than many of her train can waken : him 

Would fain have taught what fruitful things and dear 

Must sink beneath the tidewaves, of their weight, 

If in no vessel built for sea they swim. 



202 SONNETS 



THE POINT OF TASTE 

Unhappy poets of a sunken prime ! 

You to reviewers are as ball to bat. 

They shadow you with Homer, knock you flat 

With Shakespeare : bludgeons brainingly sublime 

On you the excommunicates of Rhyme, 

Because you sing not in the living Fat. 

The wiry whizz of an intrusive gnat 

Is verse that shuns their self-producing time. 

Sound them their clocks, with loud alarum trump, 

Or watches ticking temporal at their fobs, 

You win their pleased attention. But, bright God 

0' the lyre, what bully-drawlers they applaud! 

Bather for us a tavern-catch, and bump 

Chorus where Lumpkin with his Giles hobnobs. 



SONNETS 203 



CAMELUS SALTAT 

What say you, critic, now you have become 
An author and maternal ? — in this trap 
(To quote you) of poor hollow folk who rap 
On instruments as like as drum to drum. 
You snarled tut-tut for welcome to tum-tum, 
So like the nose fly-teased in its noon's nap. 
You scratched an insect-slaughtering thunder-clap 
With that between the fingers and the thumb. 
It seemeth mad to quit the Olympian couch, 
Which bade our public gobble or reject. 
spectacle of Peter, shrewdly pecked, 
Piper, by his own pepper from his pouch! 
What of the sneer, the jeer, the voice austere, 
You dealt? — the voice austere, the jeer, the sneer. 



204 SONNETS 



CAMELUS SALTAT (continued) 

Obacle of the market ! thence you drew 

The taste which stamped you guide of the inept. — 

A North-sea pilot, Hildebrand yclept, 

A sturdy and a briny, once men knew. 

He loved small beer, and for that copious brew, 

To roll ingurgitation till he slept, 

Eations exchanged with flavour for the adept : 

And merrily plied him captain, mate and crew. 

At last this dancer to the Polar star 

Sank, washed out within, and overboard was pitched, 

To drink the sea and pilot him to land. 

captain-critic! printed, neatly stitched, 

Know, while the pillory-eggs fly fast, they are 

Not eggs, but the drowned soul of Hildebrand. 



SONNETS 205 



TO J. M. 

Let Fate or Insufficiency provide 

Mean ends for men who what they are would be : 

Penned in their narrow day no change they see 

Save one which strikes the blow to brutes and pride. 

Our faith is ours and comes not on a tide : 

And whether Earth's great offspring, by decree, 

Must rot if they abjure rapacity, 

Not argument but effort shall decide. 

They number many heads in that hard flock : 

Trim swordsmen they push forth : yet try thy steel. 

Thou, fighting for poor humankind, wilt feel 

The strength of Roland in thy wrist to hew 

A chasm sheer into the barrier rock, 

And bring the army of the faithful through. 



206 SONNETS 



TO A FEIEND LOST 

(t. t.) 

When I remember, friend, whom lost I call, 

Because a man beloved is taken hence, 

The tender humour and the fire of sense 

In your good eyes ; how full of heart for all, 

And chiefly for the weaker by the wall, 

You bore that lamp of sane benevolence ; 

Then see I round you Death his shadows dense 

Divide, and at your feet his emblems fall. 

For surely are you one with the white host, 

Spirits, whose memory in our vital air 

Through the great love of Earth they had : lo, these, 

Like beams that throw the path on tossing seas, 

Can bid us feel we keep them in the ghost, 

Partakers of a strife they joyed to share. 



SONNETS 207 



MY THEME 

Of me and of my theme think what thou wilt : 
The song of gladness one straight bolt can check. 
But I have never stood at Fortune's beck : 
Were she and her light crew to run atilt 
At my poor holding little would be spilt ; 
Small were the praise for singing o'er that wreck. 
Who courts her dooms to strife his bended neck; 
He grasps a blade, not always by the hilt. 
Nathless she strikes at random, can be fell 
With other than those votaries she deals 
The black or brilliant from her thunder-rift. 
I say but that this love of Earth reveals 
A soul beside our own to quicken, quell, 
Irradiate, and through ruinous floods uplift. 



208 SONNETS 



MY THEME (continued) 

J T is true the wisdom that my mind exacts 

Through contemplation from a heart unbent 

By many tempests may be stained and rent : 

The summer flies it mightily attracts. 

Yet they seem choicer than your sons of facts, 

Which scarce give breathing of the sty's content 

For their diurnal carnal nourishment : 

Which treat with Nature in official pacts. 

The deader body Nature could proclaim. 

Much life have neither. Let the heavens of wrath 

Rattle, then both scud scattering to froth. 

But during calms the flies of idle aim 

Less put the spirit out, less baffle thirst 

For light than swinish grunters, blest or curst. 



SONNETS 209 



TIME AND SENTIMENT 

I see a fair young couple in a wood, 

And as they go, one bends to take a flower, 

That so may be embalmed their happy hour, 

And in another day, a kindred mood, 

Haply together, or in solitude, 

Recovered what the teeth of Time devour 

The joy, the bloom, and the illusive power, 

Wherewith by their young blood they are endued 

To move all enviable, framed in May, 

And of an aspect sisterly with Truth : 

Yet seek they with Time's laughing things to wed 

Who will be prompted on some pallid day 

To lift the hueless flower and show that dead, 

Even such, and by this token, is their youth. 



n 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 
THE TWO MASKS 



Melpomene among her livid people, 
Ere stroke of lyre, upon Thaleia looks, 
Warned by old contests that one museful ripple 
Along those lips of rose with tendril hooks, 
Forebodes disturbance in the springs of pathos, 
Perchance may change of masks midway demand, 
Albeit the man rise mountainous as Athos, 
The woman wild as Cape Leucadia stand. 



ii 

For this the Comic Muse exacts of creatures 
Appealing to the fount of tears : that they 
Strive never to outleap our human features, 
And do Eight Reason's ordinance obey, 
In peril of the hum to laughter nighest. 
But prove they under stress of action's fire 
Nobleness, to that test of Reason highest, 
She bows : she waves them for the loftier lyre. 

VOL. II. — 1 



AECHDUCHESS ANNE 



In middle age an evil tiling 
Befell Archduchess Anne : 

She looked outside her wedding-ring 
Upon a princely man. 



ii 



Count Louis was for horse and arms ; 
And if its beacon waved, 
or love ; but ladies had not charms 
To match a danger braved. 



in 



On battlefields he was the bow 
Bestrung to fly the shaft : 

In idle hours his heart would flow 
As winds on currents waft. 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 213 

IV 

His blood was of those warrior tribes 

That streamed from morning's fire, 
Whom now with traps and now with bribes 

The wily Council wire. 

v 

Archduchess Anne the Council ruled, 

Count Louis his great dame ; 
And woe to both when one had cooled! 

Little was she to blame. 

VI 

Among her chiefs who spun their plots, 

Old Kraken stood the sword : 
As sharp his wits for cutting knots 

Of babble he abhorred. 

VII 

He reverenced her name and line, 

Nor other merit had 
Save soldierwise to wait her sign, 

And do the deed she bade. 

VIII 

He saw her hand jump at her side 

Ere royally she smiled 
On Louis and his fair young bride 

Where courtly ranks defiled. 



214 BALLADS AND POEMS OP TRAGIC LDJB 

IX 

That was a moment when a shock 

Through the procession ran, 
And thrilled the plumes, and stayed the clock, 

Yet smiled Archduchess Anne. 

x 

No touch gave she to hound in leash, 

No wink to sword in sheath : 
She seemed a woman scarce of flesh ; 

Above it, or beneath. 

XI 

Old Kraken spied with kennelled snarl, 

His Lady deemed disgraced. 
He rooted as on burning marl, 

When out of Hall he paced. 

XII 

'T was seen he hammered striding legs, 

And stopped, and strode again. 
Now Vengeance has a brood of eggs, 

But Patience must be hen. 

XIII 

Too slow are they for wrath to hatch, 

Too hot for time to rear. 
Old Kraken kept unwinking watch ; 

He marked his day appear. 



BALLADS AND POEMS OP TRAGIC LIFE 215 



XIV 



He neighed a laugh, though moods were rough 

With standards in revolt : 
His nostrils took the news for snuff, 

His smacking lips for salt. 

xv 

Count Louis' wavy cock's plumes led 
His troops of black-haired manes, 

A rebel ; and old Kraken sped 
To front him on the plains. 

XVI 

Then camp opposed to camp did they 

Fret earth with panther claws 
For signal of a bloody day, 

Each reading from the Laws. 

XVII 

'Forefend it, heaven ! ' Count Louis cried, 

' And let the righteous plead : 
My country is a willing bride, 

Was never slave decreed. 

XVIII 

' Not we for thirst of blood appeal 

To sword and slaughter curst ; 
We have God's blessing on our steel, 

Do we our pleading first.' 



216 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 



XIX 



Count Louis, soul of chivalry, 
Put trust in plighted word ; 

By starlight on the broad brown lea, 
To bar the strife he spurred. 



xx 



Across his breast a crimson spot, 
That in a quiver glowed, 

The ruddy crested camp-fires shot, 
As he to darkness rode. 



XXI 



He rode while omens called, beware 
Old Kraken's pledge of faith ! 

A smile and waving hand in air, 
And outward flew the wraith. 

XXII 

Before pale morn had mixed with gold, 
His army roared, and chilled, 

As men who have a woe foretold, 
And see it red fulfilled. 

XXIII 

Away and to his young wife speed, 
And say that Honour's dead! 

Another word she will not need 
To bow a widow's head. 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LDJE 217 

XXIV 

Old Kraken roped his white moustache 

Right, left, for savage glee : 
— To swing him in his soldier's sash, 

Were kind for such as he ! 

xxv 

Old Kraken's look hard Winter wears 

When sweeps the wild snow-blast : 
He had the hug of Arctic bears 

For captives he held fast. 



II 



Archduchess Anne sat carved in frost, 
Shut off from priest and spouse. 

Her lips were locked, her arms were crossed, 
Her eyes were in her brows. 

ii 

One hand enclosed a paper scroll, 

Held as a strangled asp. 
So may we see the woman's soul 

In her dire tempter's grasp. 

in 

Along that scroll Count Louis' doom 
Throbbed till the letters flamed. 

She saw him in his scornful bloom, 
She saw him chained and shamed. 

IV 

Around that scroll Count Louis' fate 

Was acted to her stare, 
And hate in love and love in hate 

Fought fell to smite or spare. 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TEAGIC LIFE 219 



Between the day that struck her old, 

And this black star of days, 
Her heart swung like a storm-bell tolled 

Above a town ablaze. 

VI 

His beauty pressed to intercede, 

His beauty served him ill. 
— Not Vengeance, 't is his rebel's deed, 

'T is Justice, not our will ! 

VII 

Yet who had sprung to life's full force 

A breast that loveless dried ? 
But who had sapped it at the source, 

With scarlet to her pride ! 

VIII 

He brought her waning heart as 't were 

New message from the skies. 
And he betrayed, and left on her 

The burden of their sighs. 

IX 

In floods her tender memories poured ; 

They foamed with waves of spite : 
She crushed them, high her heart outsoared, 

To keep her mind alight. 



220 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 



— The crawling creature, called in scorn 
A woman ! — with this pen 

We sign a paper that may warn 
His crowing fellowmen. 

XI 

— We read them lesson of a power 
They slight who do us wrong. 

That bitter hour this bitter hour 
Provokes ; by turns the strong ! 

XII 

— That we were woman once is known : 
That we are Justice now, 

Above our sex, above the throne, 
Men quaking shall avow. 

XIII 

Archduchess Anne ascending flew, 
Her heart outsoared, but felt 

The demon of her sex pursue, 
Incensing or to melt. 

XIV 

Those counterfloods below at leap, 
Still in her breast blew storm, 

And farther up the heavenly steep, 
Wrestled in angels' form. 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LITE 221 

XV 

To disentangle one clear wish 

Not of her sex, she sought j 
And womanish to womanish, 

Discerned in lighted thought. 

XVI 

With Louis' chance it went not well 

When at herself she raged ; 
A woman, of whom men might tell 

She doted, crazed and aged. 

XVII 

Or else enamoured of a sweet 

Withdrawn, a vengeful crone ! 
And say, what figure at her feet 

Is this that utters moan ? 

XVIII 

The Countess Louis from her head 

Drew veil : ' Great Lady, hear ! 
My husband deems you Justice dread, 

I know you Mercy dear. 

XIX 

'His error upon him may fall ; 

He will not breathe a nay. 
I am his helpless mate in all, 

Except for grace to pray. 



222 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 

XX 

' Perchance on me his choice inclined, 

To give his House an heir : 
I had not marriage with his mind, 

His counsel could not share. 

XXI 

'I brought no portion for his weal 

But this one instinct true, 
Which bids me in my weakness kneel, 

Archduchess Anne, to you.' 

XXII 

The frowning Lady uttered, 'Forth!' 
Her look forbade delay : 

* It is not mine to weigh your worth ; 

Your husband's others weigh. 

XXIII 

* Hence with the woman in your speech, 

For nothing it avails 
In woman's fashion to beseech 
Where Justice holds the scales.' 

XXIV 

Then bent and went the lady wan, 

Whose girlishness made grey 
The thoughts that through Archduchess Anne 

Shattered like stormy spray. 



BALLADS AM) POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 

XXV 

Long sat she there, as flame that strives 
To hold on beating wind : 

— His wife must be the fool of wives, 
Or cunningly designed ! 

XXVI 

She sat until the tempest-pitch 
In her torn bosom fell ; 

— His wife must be a subtle witch 
Or else God loves her well ! 



Ill 



Old Kraken read a missive penned 

By his great Lady's hand. 
Her condescension called him friend, 

To raise the crest she fanned. 



ii 

Swiftly to where he lay encamped 

It flew, yet breathed aloof 
From woman's feeling, and he stamped 

A heel more like a hoof. 



in 

She wrote of Mercy : ' She was loth 

Too hard to goad a foe.' 
He stamped, as when men drive an oath 

Devils transcribe below. 



IV 

She wrote : ' We have him half by theft.' 

His wrinkles glistened keen : 
And see the Winter storm-cloud cleft 

To lurid skies between ! 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LDTE 221 

V 

When read old Kraken : < Christ our Guide,' 

His eyes were spikes of spar : 
And see the white snow-storm divide 

About an icy star ! 

VI 

* She trusted him to understand/ 

She wrote, and further prayed 
That policy might rule the land. 

Old Kraken's laughter neighed. 

VII 

Her words he took ; her nods and winks 

Treated as woman's fog. 
The man-dog for his mistress thinks, 

Not less her faithful dog. 

VIII 

She hugged a cloak old Kraken ripped ; 

Disguise to him he loathed. 
— Your mercy, madam, shows you stripped, 

While mine will keep you clothed. 

IX 

A rough ill-soldered scar in haste 

He rubbed on his cheek-bone. 
— Our policy the man shall taste ; 

Our mercy shall be shown. 

15 



226 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 



' Count Louis, honour to your race 

Decrees the Council-hall : 
You 'scape the rope by special grace, 

And like a soldier fall.' 

XI 

— I am a man of many sins, 

Who for one virtue die, 
Count Louis said. — They play at shins, 

Who kick, was the reply. 

XII 

Uprose the day of crimson sight, 

The day without a God. 
At morn the hero said Good-night: 

See there that stain on sod ! 

XIII 

At morn the Countess Louis heard 

Young light sing in the lark. 
Ere eve it was that other bird, 

Which brings the starless dark. 

XIV 

To heaven she vowed herself, and yearned 

Beside her lord to lie. 
Archduchess Anne on Kraken turned, 

All white as a dead eye. 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 227 

XV 

If I could kill thee ! shrieked her look : 

If lightning sprang from Will ! 
An oaken head old Kraken shook, 

And she might thank or kill. 

XVI 

The pride that fenced her heart in mail, 

By mortal pain was torn. 
Forth from her bosom leaped a wail, 

As of a babe new-born. 



She clad herself in courtly use, 
And one who heard them prate, 

Had said they differed upon views 
Where statecraft raised debate. 

XVIII 

The wretch detested must she trust, 

The servant master own : 
Confide to godless cause so just, 

And for God's blessing moan. 

XIX 

Austerely she her heart kept down, 
Her woman's tongue was mute 

When voice of People, voice of Crown, 
In cannon held dispute. 



228 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 

XX 

The Crown on seas of blood, like swine, 
Swam forefoot at the throat : 

It drank of its dear veins for wine, 
Enough if it might float ! 

XXI 

It sank with piteous yelp, resurged 

Electrical with fear. 
O had she on old Kraken urged 

Her word of mercy clear ! 

XXII 

O had they with Count Louis been 

Accordant in his plea! 
Cursed are the women vowed to screen 

A heart that all can see ! 

XXIII 

The godless drove unto a goal 
Was worse than vile defeat. 

Did vengeance prick Count Louis' soul 
They dressed him luscious meat. 

XXIV 

Worms will the faithless find their lies 
In the close treasure-chest. 

Without a God no day can rise, 
Though it should slay our best. 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 229 

XXV 

The Crown it furled a draggled flag, 

It sheathed a broken blade. 
Behold its triumph in the hag 

That lives with looks decayed ! 

XXVI 

And lo, the man of oaken head, 

Of soldier's honour bare, 
He fled his land, but most he fled 

His Lady's frigid stare. 

XXVII 

Judged by the issue we discern 

God's blessing, and the bane. 
Count Louis' dust would fill an urn, 

His deeds are waving grain. 

XXVIII 

And she that helped to slay, yet bade 

To spare the fated man, 
Great were her errors, but she had 

Great heart, Archduchess Anne. 



THE SONG OF THEODOLINDA. 



Queen Theodolind has built 
In the earth a furnace-bed : 
There the Traitor Nail that spilt 
Blood of the anointed Head, 
Ked of heat, resolves in shame : 
White of heat, awakes to flame. 
Beat, beat ! white of heat, 
Eed of heat, beat, beat ! 

ii 

Mark the skeleton of fire 
Lightening from its thunder-roof: 
So comes this that saw expire 
Him we love, for our behoof ! 
Bed of heat, white of heat, 
This from off the Cross we greet. 

in 

Brown-cowled hammermen around 
Nerve their naked arms to strike 
Death with Besurrection crowned, 
Each upon that cruel spike. 
Bed of heat the furnace leaps, 
White of heat transfigured sleeps. 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TftAGIC LIFE 231 



IV 

Hard against the furnace core 
Holds the Queen her streaming eyes : 
Lo ! that thing of piteous gore 
In the lap of radiance lies, 
Red of heat, as when He takes, 
White of heat, whom earth forsakes. 



Forth with it, and crushing ring 
Iron hymns, for men to hear 
Echoes of the deeds that sting 
Earth into its graves, and fear ! 
Red of heat, He maketh thus, 
White of heat, a crown of us. 



VI 

This that killed Thee, kissed Thee, Lord ! 
Touched Thee, and we touch it : dear, 
Dark it is ; adored, abhorred : 
Vilest, yet most sainted here. 
Eed of heat, white of heat, 
In it hell and heaven meet. 



232 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TBAGIC LLFE 



VII 

I behold our morning day 
When they chased Him out with rods 
Up to where this traitor lay 
Thirsting ; and the blood was God's ! 
Red of heat, it shall be pressed, 
White of heat, once on my breast ! 



VIII 

Quick ! the reptile in me shrieks, 
Not the soul. Again ; the Cross 
Burn there. Oh ! this pain it wreaks 
Rapture is : pain is not loss. 
Eed of heat, the tooth of Death, 
White of heat, has caught my breath. 



IX 

Brand me, bite me, bitter thing ! 
Thus He felt, and thus I am 
One with Him in suffering, 
One with Him in bliss, the Lamb. 
Red of heat, white of heat, 
Thus is bitterness made sweet. 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LDTE 233 



Now am I, who bear that stamp 
Scorched in me, the living sign 
Sole on earth — the lighted lamp 
Of the dreadful day divine. 
White of heat, beat on it fast ! 
Eed of heat, its shape has passed. 



XI 

Out in angry sparks they fly, 
They that sentenced Him to bleed: 
Pontius and his troop : they die, 
Damned for ever for the deed ! 
White of heat in vain they soar : 
Red of heat they strew the floor. 



XII 

Fury on it ! have its debt ! 
Thunder on the Hill accurst, 
Golgotha, be ye! and sweat 
Blood, and thirst the Passion's thirst. 
Red of heat and white of heat, 
Champ it like fierce teeth that eat. 



234 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 



XIII 

Strike it as the ages crush 
Towers ! for while a shape is seen 
I am rivalled. Quench its blush, 
Devil ! But it crowns me Queen, 
Red of heat, as none before, 
White of heat, the circlet wore. 



XIV 

Lowly I will be, and quail, 
Crawling, with a beggar's hand : 
On my breast the branded Nail, 
On my head the iron band. 
Red of heat, are none so base ! 
White of heat, none know such grace ! 



xv 

In their heaven the sainted hosts, 
Robed in violet unflecked, 
Gaze on humankind as ghosts : 
I draw down a ray direct. 
Red of heat, across my brow, 
White of heat, I touch Him now. 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 235 



XVI 

Robed in violet, robed in gold, 
Robed in pearl, they make our dawn. 
What am I to them ? Behold 
What ye are to me, and fawn. 
Red of heat, be humble, ye ! 
White of heat, teach it me ! 



XVII 

Martyrs ! hungry peaks in air, 

Rent with lightnings, clad with snow, 

Crowned with stars ! you strip me bare, 

Pierce me, shame me, stretch me low, 

Red of heat, but it may be, 

White of heat, some envy me ! 



XVIII 

poor enviers! God's own gifts 
Have a devil for the weak. 
Yea, the very force that lifts 
Finds the vessel's secret leak. 
Red of heat, I rise o'er all : 
White of heat, I faint, I fall. 



236 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 



XIX 

Those old Martyrs sloughed their pride, 

Taking humbleness like mirth. 

I am to His Glory tied, 

I that witness Him on earth ! 

Red of heat, my pride of dust, 

White of heat, feeds fire in trust. 



xx 

Kindle me to constant fire, 
Lest the nail be but a nail ! 
Give me wings of great desire, 
Lest I look within, and fail! 
Red of heat, the furnace light, 
White of heat, fix on my sight. 



XXI 

Never for the Chosen peace ! 
Know, by me tormented know, 
Never shall the wrestling cease 
Till with our outlasting Foe 
Red of heat to white of heat, 
Roll we to the Godhead's feet! 
Beat, beat ! white of heat, 
Red of heat, beat, beat ! 



A PREACHING FROM A SPANISH BALLAD 



Ladies who in chains of wedlock 
Chafe at an unequal yoke, 
Not to nightingales give hearing ; 
Better this, the raven's croak. 

ii 

Down the Prado strolled my seigneur, 
Arm at lordly bow on hip, 
Fingers trimming his moustachios, 
Eyes for pirate fellowship. 

in 

Home sat she that owned him master j 
Like the flower bent to ground 
Rain-surcharged and sun-forsaken j 
Heedless of her hair unbound. 

IV 

Sudden at her feet a lover 
Palpitating knelt and wooed ; 
Seemed a very gift from heaven 
To the starved of common food. 



238 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 



Love me ? she his vows repeated : 
Fiery vows oft sung and thrummed : 
Wondered, as on earth a stranger ; 
Thirsted, trusted, and succumbed. 

VI 

O beloved youth ! my lover ! 
Mine ! my lover ! take my life 
Wholly : thine in soul and body, 
By this oath of more than wife ! 

VII 

Know me for no helpless woman ; 
Nay, nor coward, though I sink 
Awed beside thee, like an infant 
Learning shame ere it can think. 

VIII 

Swing me hence to do thee service, 
Be thy succour, prove thy shield; 
Heaven will hear ! — in hoxise thy handmaid, 
Squire upon the battlefield. 



At my breasts I cool thy footsoles ; 
Wine I pour, I dress thy meats ; 
Humbly, when my lord it pleaseth, 
Lie with him on perfumed sheets : 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 239 



Pray for him, my blood's dear fountain. 
While he sleeps, and watch his yawn 
In that wakening babelike moment, 
Sweeter to my thought than dawn ! — 

XI 

Thundered then her lord of thunders ; 
Burst the door, and flashing sword, 
Loud disgorged the woman's title : 
Condemnation in one word. 

XII 

Grand by righteous wrath transfigured, 
Towers the husband who provides 
In his person judge and witness, 
Death's black doorkeeper besides ! 

XIII 

Round his head the ancient terrors, 
Conjured of the stronger's law, 
Circle, to abash the creature 
Daring twist beneath his paw. 

XIV 

How though he hath squandered Honour ! 
High of Honour let him scold : 
Gilding of the man's possession, 
'T is the woman's coin of gold. 



240 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 



XV 



She inheriting from many 
Bleeding mothers bleeding sense, 
Feels 'twixt her and sharp-fanged nature 
Honour first did plant the fence. 

XVI 

Nature, that so shrieks for justice ; 
Honour's thirst, that blood will slake ; 
These are women's riddles, roughly- 
Mixed to write them saint or snake. 

XVII 

Never nature cherished woman : 
She throughout the sexes' war 
Serves as temptress and betrayer, 
Favouring man, the muscular. 

XVIII 

Lureful is she, bent for folly; 
Doating on the child which crows : 
Yours to teach him grace in fealty, 
What the bloom is, what the rose. 

XIX 

Hard the task : your prison-chamber 
Widens not for lifted latch 
Till the giant thews and sinews 
Meet their Godlike overmatch. 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 241 



XX 

Read that riddle, scorning pity's 
Tears, of cockatrices shed : 
When the heart is vowed for freedom, 
Captaincy it yields to head. 

XXI 

Meanwhile you, freaked nature's martyrs, 
Honour's army, flower and weed, 
Gentle ladies, wedded ladies, 
See for you this fair one bleed. 

XXII 

Sole stood her offence, she faltered ; 
Prayed her lord the youth to spare ; 
Prayed that in the orange garden 
She might lie, and ceased her prayer. 

XXIII 

Then commending to all women 
Chastity, her breasts she laid 
Bare unto the self-avenger. 
Man in metal was the blade. 



16 



THE YOUNG PKINCESS 

A BALLAD OP OLD LAWS OF LOVE 

I 
I 

When the South, sang like a nightingale 

Above a bower in May, 
The training of Love's vine of flame 
Was writ in laws, for lord and dame 

To say their yea and nay. 

ii 

When the South sang like a nightingale 

Across the flowering night, 
And lord and dame held gentle sport, 
There came a young princess to Court, 
A frost of beauty white. 

in 

The South sang like a nightingale 

To thaw her glittering dream : 
No vine of Love her bosom gave, 
She drank no wine of Love, but grave 
She held them to Love's theme. 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 243 

IV 

The South grew all a nightingale 

Beneath a moon unmoved : 
Like the banner of war she led them on ; 
She left them to lie, like the light that has gone 

From wine-cups overproved. 



When the South was a fervid nightingale, 

And she a chilling moon, 
'T was pity to see on the garden swards, 
Against Love's laws, those rival lords 

As willow-wands lie strewn. 

VI 

The South had throat of a nightingale 

For her, the young princess : 
She gave no vine of Love to rear, 
Love's wine drank not, yet bent her ear 
To themes of Love no less. 



II 



The lords of the Court they sighed heart-sick, 

Heart-free Lord Dusiote laughed : 
I prize her no more than a fling o' the dice, 
But, or shame to my manhood, a lady of ice, 
We master her by craft ! 



ii 

Heart-sick the lords of joyance yawned, 

Lord Dusiote laughed heart-free : 
I count her as much as a crack o' my thumb, 
But, or shame of my manhood, to me she shall come 

Like the bird to roost in the tree ! 



in 

At dead of night when the palace-guard 

Had passed the measured rounds, 
The young princess awoke to feel 
A shudder of blood at the crackle of steel 
Within the garden-bounds. 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TKAGIC LIFE 245 

IV 

It ceased, and she thought of whom was need, 

The friar or the leech ; 
When lo, stood her tirewoman breathless by : 
Lord Dusiote, madam, to death is nigh, 

Of you he would have speech. 



He prays you of your gentleness, 
To light him to his dark end. 

The princess rose, and forth she went, 

For charity was her intent, 
Devoutly to befriend. 



VI 

Lord Dusiote hung on his good squire's arm, 

The priest beside him knelt : 
A weeping handkerchief was pressed 
To stay the red flood at his breast, 

And bid cold ladies melt. 



VII 

lady, though you are ice to men, 

All pure to heaven as light 
Within the dew within the flower, 
Of you 't is whispered that love has power 

When secret is the night. 



216 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 



VIII 

I have silenced the slanderers, peace to their souls ! 

Save one was too cunning for me. 
I die, whose love is late avowed, 
He lives, who boasts the lily has bowed 

To the oath of a bended knee. 



IX 

Lord Dusiote drew breath with pain, 
And she with pain drew breath : 

On him she looked, on his like above ; 

She flew in the folds of a marvel of love, 
Kevealed to pass to death. 



You are dying, great-hearted lord, 
You are dying for me, she cried ; 
take my hand, take my kiss, 
And take of your right for love like this, 
The vow that plights me bride. 



XI 

She bade the priest recite his words 
While hand in hand were they, 

Lord Dusiote's soul to waft to bliss ; 

He had her hand, her vow, her kiss, 
And his body was borne away. 



Ill 



Lord Dusiote sprang from priest and squire ; 

He gazed at her lighted room : 
The laughter in his heart grew slack ; 
He knew not the force that pushed him back 

From her and the morn in bloom. 



n 

Like a drowned man's length on the strong flood-tide, 

Like the shade of a bird in the sun, 
He fled from his lady whom he might claim 
As ghost, and who made the daybeams flame 
To scare what he had done. 



in 

There was grief at Court for one so gay, 
Though he was a lord less keen 

For training the vine than at vintage-press ; 

But in her soul the young princess 
Believed that love had been. 



248 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LITE 



IV 

Lord Dusiote fled the Court and land, 

He crossed the woeful seas, 
Till his traitorous doing seemed clearer to burn, 
And the lady beloved drew his heart for return, 

Like the banner of war in the breeze. 



He neared the palace, he spied the Court, 

And music he heard, and they told 
Of foreign lords arrived to bring 
The nuptial gifts of a bridegroom king 
To the princess grave and cold. 



VI 

The masque and the dance were cloud on wave, 

And down the masque and the dance 
Lord Dusiote stepped from dame to dame, 
And to the young princess he came, 
With a bow and a burning glance. 



VII 

Do you take a new husband to-morrow, lady? 

She shrank as at prick of steel. 
Must the first yield place to the second, he sighed. 
Her eyes were like the grave that is wide 

For the corpse from head to heel. 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 249 



VIII 

My lady, my love, that little hand 
Has mine ringed fast in plight : 

I bear for your lips a lawful thirst, 

And as justly the second should follow the first, 
I come to your door this night. 



IX 

If a ghost should come a ghost will go : 

No more the lady said, 
Save that ever when he in wrath began 
To swear by the faith of a living man, 

She answered him, You are dead. 



IV 



The soft night-wind went laden to death 
With smell of the orange in flower ; 

The light leaves prattled to neighbour ears ; 

The bird of the passion sang over his tears ; 
The night named hour by hour. 



ii 

Sang loud, sang low the rapturous bird 

Till the yellow hour was nigh, 
Behind the folds of a darker cloud : 
He chuckled, he sobbed, alow, aloud ; 
The voice between earth and sky. 



in 

will you, will you, women are weak ; 

The proudest are yielding mates 
For a forward foot and a tongue of fire : 
So thought Lord Dusiote's trusty squire, 

At watch by the palace-gates. 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 251 

IV 

The song of the bird was wine in his blood, 

And woman the odorous bloom : 
His master's great adventure stirred 
Within him to mingle the bloom and bird, 

And morn ere its coming illume. 



Beside him strangely a piece of the dark 

Had moved, and the undertones 
Of a priest in prayer, like a cavernous wave, 
He heard, as were there a soul to save 
For urgency now in the groans. 

VI 

No priest was hired for the play this night : 
And the squire tossed head like a deer 
At sniff of the tainted wind ; he gazed 
Where cresset-lamps in a door were raised, 
Belike on a passing bier. 



VII 

All cloaked and masked, with naked blades, 

That flashed of a judgement done, 
The lords of the Court, from the palace-door, 
Came issuing silently, bearers four, 
And fiat on their shoulders one. 



252 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LLFE 



VIII 

They marched the body to squire and priest, 
They lowered it sad to earth : 

The priest they gave the burial dole, 

Bade wrestle hourly for his soul, 
Who was a lord of worth. 



IX 

One said, farewell to a gallant knight ! 

And one, but a restless ghost ! 
'T is a year and a day since in this place 
He died, sped high by a lady of grace, 

To join the blissful host. 



Not vainly on us she charged her cause, 

The lady whom we revere 
For faith in the mask of a love untrue 
To the Love we honour, the Love her due, 

The Love we have vowed to rear. 



XI 

A trap for the sweet tooth, lures for the light, 

For the fortress defiant a mine : 
Right well ! But not in the South, princess, 
Shall the lady snared of her nobleness 
Ever shamed or a captive pine. 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 25( 

XII 

When the South had voice of a nightingale 

Above a Maying bower, 
On the heights of Love walked radiant peers ; 
The bird of the passion sang over his tears 

To the breeze and the orange-flower. 



KING HAEALD'S TEANCE 



Sword in length a reaping-hook amain 
Harald sheared his field, blood up to shank : 

'Mid the swathes of slain, 

First at moonrise drank. 

ii 

Thereof hunger, as for meats the knife, 
Pricked his ribs, in one sharp spur to reach 

Home and his young wife, 

Nigh the sea-ford beach. 

in 

After battle keen to feed was he : 

Smoking flesh the thresher washed down fast, 

Like an angry sea 

Ships from keel to mast. 

IV 

Name us glory, singer, name us pride 
Matching Harald's in his deeds of strength ; 
Chiefs, wife, sword by side, 
Foemen stretched their length ! 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 255 



Half a winter night the toasts hurrahed, 
Crowned him, clothed him, trumpeted him high, 

Till awink he bade 

Wife to chamber fly. 

VI 

Twice the sun had mounted, twice had sunk, 
Ere his ears took sound ; he lay for dead ; 

Mountain on his trunk, 

Ocean on his head. 

VII 

Clamped to couch, his fiery hearing sucked 
Whispers that at heart made iron-clang : 

Here fool-women clucked, 

There men held harangue. 

VIII 

Burial to fit their lord of war, 

They decreed him : hailed the kingling : ha ! 

Hateful ! but this Thor 

Failed a weak lamb's baa. 

IX 

King they hailed a branchlet, shaped to fare, 
Weighted so, like quaking shingle spume, 

When his blood's own heir 

Eipened in the womb ! 



256 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LDJE 



Still he heard, and doglike, hoglike, ran 
Nose of hearing till his blind sight saw : 

Woman stood with man 

Mouthing low, at paw. 

XI 

Woman, man, they mouthed ; they spake a thing 
Armed to split a mountain, sunder seas : 

Still the frozen king 

Lay and felt him freeze. 

XII 

Doglike, hoglike, horselike now he raced, 
Kiderless, in ghost across a ground 

Flint of breast, blank-faced, 

Past the fleshly bound. 

XIII 

Smell of brine his nostrils filled with might : 
Nostrils quickened eyelids, eyelids hand : 
Hand for sword at right 
Groped, the great haft spanned. 

XIV 

Wonder struck to ice his people's eyes : 
Him they saw, the prone upon the bier, 

Sheer from backbone rise, 

Sword uplifting peer. 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 257 

XV 

Sitting did he breathe against the blade, 
Standing kiss it for that proof of life : 

Strode, as netters wade, 

Straightway to his wife. 

XVI 

Her he eyed : his judgement was one word, 
Foulbed ! and she fell : the blow clove two. 

Fearful for the third, 

All their breath indrew. 

XVII 

Morning danced along the waves to beach ; 

Dumb his chiefs fetched breath for what might hap : 

Glassily on each 

Stared the iron cap. 

XVIII 

Sudden, as it were a monster oak 
Split to yield a limb by stress of heat, 

Strained he, staggered, broke 

Doubled at their feet. 



17 



WHIMPER OF SYMPATHY 

Hawk or shrike has done this deed 
Of downy feathers : rueful sight ! 
Sweet sentimentalist, invite 
Your bosom's Power to intercede. 

So hard it seems that one must bleed 
Because another needs will bite ! 
All round we find cold Nature slight 
The feelings of the totter-knee'd. 

it were pleasant, with you 

To fly from this tussle of foes, 

The shambles, the charnel, the wrinkle! 

To dwell in yon dribble of dew 

On the cheek of your sovereign rose, 

And live the young life of a twinkle. 



YOUNG EEYNARD 



Gbacefullest leaper, tlie dappled fox-cub 
Curves over brambles with berries and buds, 
Light as a bubble that flies from the tub, 
Whisked by the laundry- wife out of her suds. 
Wavy he comes, woolly, all at his ease, 
Elegant, fashioned to foot with the deuce ; 
Nature's own prince of the dance : then he sees 
Me, and retires as if making excuse. 

ii 

Never closed minuet courtlier ! Soon 
Cub-hunting troops were abroad, and a yelp 
Told of sure scent : ere the stroke upon noon 
Reynard the younger lay far beyond help. 
Wild, my poor friend, has the fate to be chased ; 
Civil will conquer : were 't other 't were worse, 
Fair, by the flushed early morning embraced, 
Haply you live a day longer in verse. 



MANFKED 



Projected from the bilious Childe, 

This clatter jaw his foot could set 

On Alps, without a breast beguiled 

To glow in shedding rascal sweat. 

Somewhere about his grinder teeth, 

He mouthed of thoughts that grilled beneath, 

And summoned Nature to her feud 

With bile & buskin Attitude. 



ii 

Considerably was the world 
Of spinsterdom and clergy racked 
While he his hinted horrors hurled, 
And she pictorially attacked. 
A duel hugeous. Tragic ? Ho ! 
The cities, not the mountains, blow 
Such bladders ; in their shapes confessed 
An after-dinner's indisrest. 



HERNANI 

Cistercians might crack their sides 
With laughter, and exemption get, 
At sight of heroes clasping brides, 
And hearing — the horn! the horn! 
The horn of their obstructive debt ! 

But quit the stage, that note applies 
For sermons cosmopolitan, 
Hernani. Have we filched our prize, 
Forgetting . . . ? the horn! the horn! 
The horn of the Old Gentleman! 



THE NUPTIALS OF ATTILA 



Flat as to an eagle's eye, 

Earth hung under Attila. 
Sign for carnage gave he none. 
In the peace of his disdain, 
Sun and rain, and rain and sun, 
Cherished men to wax again, 
Crawl, and in their manner die. 
On his people stood a frost. 
Like the charger cut in stone, 
Rearing stiff, the warrior host, 
Which had life from him alone, 
Craved the trumpet's eager note, 
As the bridled earth the Spring. 
Rusty was the trumpet's throat. 
He let chief and prophet rave ; 
Venturous earth around him string 
Threads of grass and slender rye, 
"Wave them, and untrampled wave. 
for the time when God did cry, 
Eye and have, my Attila! 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 263 

II 

Scorn of conquest filled like sleep 
Him that drank of havoc deep 
When the Green Cat pawed the globe : 
When the horsemen from his bow 
Shot in sheaves and made the foe 
Crimson fringes of a robe, 
Trailed o'er towns and fields in woe ; 
When they streaked the rivers red, 
When the saddle was the bed. 
Attila, my Attila! 

m 

He breathed peace and pulled a flower. 

Eye and have, my Attila ! 
This was the damsel Ildico, 
Eich in bloom until that hour : 
Shyer than the forest doe 
Twinkling slim through branches green. 
Yet the shyest shall be seen. 

Make the bed for Attila! 

IV 

Seen of Attila, desired, 
She was led to him straightway : 
Radiantly was she attired ; 
Rifled lands were her array, 
Jewels bled from weeping crowns, 
Gold of woeful fields and towns. 



264 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TKAGIC LIFE 

She stood pallid in the light. 
How she walked, how withered white, 
From the blessing to the board, 
She who should have proudly blushed 
Women whispered, asking why, 
Hinting of a youth, and hushed. 
"Was it terror of her lord ? 
Was she childish ? was she sly ? 
Was it the bright mantle's dye 
Drained her blood to hues of grief 
Like the ash that shoots the spark ? 
See the green tree all in leaf : 
See the green tree stripped of bark ! — 
Make the bed for Attila ! 



Round the banquet-table's load 
Scores of iron horsemen rode ; 
Chosen warriors, keen and hard ; 
Grain of threshing battle-dints ; 
Attila's fierce body-guard, 
Smelling war like fire in flints. 
Grant them peace be fugitive ! 
Iron-capped and iron-heeled, 
Each against his fellow's shield 
Smote the spear-head, shouting, Live, 

Attila ! my Attila ! 
Eagle, eagle of our breed, 
Eagle, beak the lamb, and feed ! 
Have her, and unleash us ! live, 

Attila ! my Attila ! 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 265 

VI 

He was of the blood to shine 
Bronze in joy, like skies that scorch. 
Beaming with the goblet wine 
In the wavering of the torch, 
Looked he backward on his bride. 

Eye and have, my Attila ! 
Fair in her wide robe was she : 
Where the robe and vest divide, 
Fair she seemed surpassingly : 
Soft, yet vivid as the stream 
Danube rolls in the moonbeam 
Through rock-barriers : but she smiled 
Never, she sat cold as salt : 
Open-mouthed as a young child 
Wondering with a mind at fault. 

Make the bed for Attila ! 

VII 

Under the thin hoop of gold 
Whence in waves her hair outrolled, 
'Twixt her brows the women saw 
Shadows of a vulture's claw 
Gript in flight : strange knots that sped 
Closing and dissolving aye : 
Such as wicked dreams betray 
When pale dawn creeps o'er the bed. 
They might show the common pang 
Known to virgins, in whom dread 



268 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 

Hunts their bliss like famished hounds ; 
While the chiefs with roaring rounds 
Tossed her to her lord, and sang 
Praise of him whose hand was large, 
Cheers for beauty brought to yield, 
Chirrups of the trot afield, 
Hurrahs of the battle-charge. 

VIII 

Those rock-faces hung with weed 
Reddened : their great days of speed, 
Slaughter, triumph, flood and flame, 
Like a jealous frenzy wrought, 
Scoffed at them and did them shame, 
Quaffing idle, conquering naught. 
for the time when God decreed 

Earth the prey of Attila ! 
God called on thee in his wrath, 
Trample it to mire ! 'T was done. 
Swift as Danube clove our path 
Down from East to Western sun. 
Huns ! behold your pasture, gaze, 
Take, our king said : heel to flank 
(Whisper it, the warhorse neighs !) 
Eorth we drove, and blood we drank 
Fresh as dawn-dew : earth was ours : 
Men were flocks we lashed and spurned : 
Fast as windy flame devours, 
Flame along the wind, we burned. 
Arrow, javelin, spear, and sword ! 
Here the snows and there the plains ; 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LLFE 267 

On ! our signal : onward poured 
Torrents of the tightened reins, 
Foaming over vine and corn 
Hot against the city-wall. 
Whisper it, you sound a horn 
To the grey beast in the stall ! 
Yea, he whinnies at a nod. 
for sound of the trumpet-notes ! 
O for the time when thunder-shod, 
He that scarce can munch his oats, 
Hung on the peaks, brooded aloof, 
Champed the grain of the wrath of God, 
Pressed a cloud on the cowering roof, 
Snorted out of the blackness fire ! 
Scarlet broke the sky, and down, 
Hammering West with print of his hoof, 
He burst out of the bosom of ire 
Sharp as eyelight under thy frown, 
Attila, my Attila ! 



IX 

Ravaged cities rolling smoke 
Thick on cornfields dry and black, 
Wave his banners, bear his yoke. 
Track the lightning, and you track 
Attila. They moan : 't is he ! 
Bleed : 't is he ! Beneath his foot 
Leagues are deserts charred and mute 
Where he passed, there passed a sea. 
Attila, my Attila! 



268 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 



— Who breathed on the king cold breath? 
Said a voice amid the host, 
He is Death that weds a ghost, 
Else a ghost that weds with Death ? 
Ildico's chill little hand 
Shuddering he beheld : austere 
Stared, as one who would command 
Sight of what has filled his ear : 
Plucked his thin beard, laughed disdain. 
Feast, ye Huns ! His arm he raised, 
Like the warrior, battle-dazed, 
Joining to the fight amain. 
Make the bed for Attila! 

XI 

Silent Ildico stood up. 
King and chief to pledge her well, 
Shocked sword sword and cup on cup, 
Clamouring like a brazen bell. 
Silent stepped the queenly slave. 
Fair, by heaven ! she was to meet 
On a midnight, near a grave, 
Flapping wide the winding-sheet. 

XII 

Death and she walked through the crowd, 
Out beyond the flush of light. 
Ceremonious women bowed 
Following her : 't was middle night. 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 269 

Then the warriors each on each 
Spied, nor overloudly laughed ; 
Like the victims of the leech, 
Who have drunk of a strange draught. 



XIII 

Attila remained. Even so 
Frowned he when he struck the blow, 
Brained his horse that stumbled twice, 
On a bloody day in Gaul, 
Bellowing, Perish omens ! All 
Marvelled at the sacrifice, 
But the battle, swinging dim, 
Rang off that axe-blow for him. 
Attila, my Attila! 

XIV 

Brightening over Danube wheeled 
Star by star ; and she, most fair, 
Sweet as victory half-revealed, 
Seized to make him glad and young ; 
She, sweet as the dark sign 
Given him oft in battles gone, 
When the voice within said, Dare ! 
And the trumpet-notes were sprung 
Rapturous for the charge in line : 
She lay waiting : fair as dawn 
Wrapped in folds of night she lay ; 
Secret, lustrous ; flaglike there, 



270 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 

Waiting him to stream and ray, 
With one loosening blush outflung, 
Colours of his hordes of horse 
Eanked for combat : still he hung 
Like the fever dreading air, 
Cursed of heat ; and as a corse 
Gathers vultures, in his brain 
Images of her eyes and kiss 
Plucked at the limbs that could remain 
Loitering nigh the doors of bliss. 
Make the bed for Attila ! 

xv 

Passion on one hand, on one, 
Destiny led forth the Hun. 
Heard ye outcries of affright, 
Voices that through many a fray, 
In the press of flag and spear, 
Warned the king of peril near ? 
Men were dumb, they gave him way, 
Eager heads to left and right, 
Like the bearded standard, thrust, 
As in battle, for a nod 
Prom their lord of battle-dust. 

Attila, my Attila ! 
Slow between the lines he trod. 
Saw ye not the sun drop slow 
On this nuptial day, ere eve 
Pierced him on the couch aglow ? 

Attila, my Attila! 
Here and there his heart would cleave 



BALLADS AM) POEMS OF TRAGIC LTFE 271 

Clotted memory for a space : 
Some stout chief's familiar face, 
Choicest of his fighting brood, 
Touched him, as 't were one to know 
Ere he met his bride's embrace. 

Attila, my Attila ! 
Twisting fingers in a beard 
Scant as winter underwood, 
With a narrowed eye he peered ; 
Like the sunset's graver red 
Up old pine-stems. Grave he stood 
Eyeing them on whom was shed 
Burning light from him alone. 

Attila, my Attila ! 
Red were they whose mouths recalled 
Where the slaughter mounted high, 
High on it, o'er earth appalled, 
He ; heaven's finger in their sight 
Raising him on waves of dead : 
Up to heaven his trumpets blown. 
for the time when God's delight 

Crowned the head of Attila ! 
Hungry river of the crag 
Stretching hands for earth he came : 
Force and Speed astride his name 
Pointed back to spear and flag. 
He came out of miracle cloud, 
Lightning-swift and spectre-lean. 
Now those days are in a shroud : 
Have him to his ghostly queen. 

Make the bed for Attila ! 



272 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 

XVI 

One, with winecups overstrung, 

Cried him farewell in Koine's tongue. 

Who? for the great king turned as though 

Wrath to the shaft's head strained the bow. 

Nay, not wrath the king possessed, 

But a radiance of the breast. 

In that sound he had the key 

Of his cunning malady. 

Lo, where gleamed the sapphire lake, 

Leo, with his Rome at stake, 

Drew blank air to hues and forms ; 

Whereof Two that shone distinct, 

Linked as orbed stars are linked, 

Clear among the myriad swarms, 

In a constellation, dashed 

Full on horse and rider's eyes 

Sunless light, but light it was — 

Light that blinded and abashed, 

Froze his members, bade him pause, 

Caught him mid-gallop, blazed him home. 

Attila, my Attila ! 
What are streams that cease to flow ? 
What was Attila, rolled thence, 
Cheated by a juggler's show ? 
Like that lake of blue intense, 
Under tempest lashed to foam, 
Lurid radiance, as he passed, 
Filled him, and around was glassed, 
When deep-voiced he uttered, Rome ! 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 273 

XVII 

Home ! the word was : and like meat 
Flung to dogs the word was torn. 
Soon Home's magic priests shall bleat 
Round their magic Pope forlorn ! 
Loud they swore the king had sworn 
Vengeance on the Roman cheat, 
Ere he passed as, grave and still, 
Danube through the shouting hill : 
Sworn it by his naked life ! 
Eagle, snakes these women are : 
Take them on the wing ! but war, 
Smoking war 's the warrior's wife ! 
Then for plunder ! then for brides 
Won without a winking priest ! — 
Danube whirled his train of tides 
Black toward the yellow East. 
Make the bed for Attila ! 

XVIII 

Chirrups of the trot afield, 
Hurrahs of the battle-charge, 
How they answered, how they pealed, 
When the morning rose and drew 
Bow and javelin, lance and targe, 
In the nuptial casement's view ! 

Attila, my Attila ! 
Down the hillspurs, out of tents 
Glimmering in mid-forest, through 
Mists of the cool morning scents, 

18 



274 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TEAGIC LEFE 

Forth from city-alley, court, 
Arch, the bounding horsemen flew, 
Joined along the plains of dew, 
Raced and gave the rein to sport, 
Closed and streamed like curtain-rents 
Fluttered by a wind, and flowed 
Into squadrons : trumpets blew, 
Chargers neighed, and trappings glowed 
Brave as the bright Orient's. 
Look on the seas that run to greet 
Sunrise : look on the leagues of wheat : 
Look on the lines and squares that fret 
Leaping to level the lance blood-wet. 
Tens of thousands, man and steed, 
Tossing like field-flowers in Spring ; 
Eeady to be hurled at need 
Whither their great lord may sling. 
Finger Rome ward, Rome ward, King ! 

Attila, my Attila ! 
Still the woman holds him fast 
As a night-flag round the mast. 



XIX 

Nigh upon the fiery noon, 
Out of ranks a roaring burst. 
'Ware white women like the moon I 
They are poison : they have thirst 
First for love, and next for rule. 
Jealous of the army, she ? 
Ho, the little wanton fool ! 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 275 

We were his before she squealed 
Blind for mother's milk, and heeled 
Kicking on her mother's knee. 
His in life and death are we : 
She but one flower of a field. 
We have given him bliss tenfold 
In an hour to match her night : 

Attila, my Attila ! 
Still her arms the master hold, 
As on wounds the scarf winds tight. 



xx 

Over Danube day no more, 
Like the warrior's planted spear, 
Stood to hail the King : in fear 
Western day knocked at his door. 

Attila, my Attila ! 
Sudden in the army's eyes 
Boiled a blast of lights and cries : 
Flashing through them : Dead are ye ! 
Dead, ye Huns, and torn piecemeal ! 
See the ordered army reel 
Stricken through the ribs : and see, 
Wild for speed to cheat despair, 
Horsemen, clutching knee to chin, 
Crouch and dart they know not where. 

Attila, my Attila ! 
Faces covered, faces bare, 
Light the palace-front like jets 
Of a dreadful fire within. 



276 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 

Beating hands and driving hair 
Start on roof and parapets. 
Dust rolls up ; the slaughter din. 
— Death to them who call him dead ! 
Death to them who doubt the tale ! 
Choking in his dusty veil, 
Sank the sun on his death-bed. 
Make the bed for Attila ! 



XXI 

'T is the room where thunder sleeps. 
Frenzy, as a wave to shore 
Surging, burst the silent door, 
And drew back to awful deeps, 
Breath beaten out, foam-white. Anew 
Howled and pressed the ghastly crew, 
Like storm-waters over rocks. 

Attila, my Attila ! 
One long shaft of sunset red 
Laid a finger on the bed. 
Horror, with the snaky locks, 
Shocked the surge to stiffened heaps, 
Hoary as the glacier's head 
Faced to the moon. Insane they look. 
God it is in heaven who weeps 
Fallen from his hand the Scourge he shook. 

Make the bed for Attila ! 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 277 



XXII 

Square along the couch, and stark, 
Like the sea-rejected thing 
Sea-sucked white, behold their King. 

Attila, my Attila ! 
Beams that panted black and bright, 
Scornful lightnings danced their sight 
Him they see an oak in bud, 
Him an oaklog stripped of bark : 
Him, their lord of day and night, 
White, and lifting up his blood 
Dumb for vengeance. Name us that, 
Huddled in the corner dark, 
Humped and grinning like a cat, 
Teeth for lips ! — 't is she ! she stares, 
Glittering through her bristled hairs. 
Rend her ! Pierce her to the hilt ! 
She is Murder : have her out ! 
What ! this little fist, as big 
As the southern summer fig! 
She is Madness, none may doubt. 
Death, who dares deny her guilt! 
Death, who says his blood she spilt ! 

Make the bed for Attila ! 

XXIII 

Torch and lamp and sunset-red 
Fell three-fingered on the bed. 
In the torch the beard-hair scant 
With the great breast seemed to pant : 



278 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 

In the yellow lamp the limbs 
Wavered, as the lake-flower swims : 
In the sunset red the dead 
Dead avowed him, dry blood-red. 

XXIV 

Hatred of that abject slave, 
Earth, was in each chieftain's heart. 
Earth has got him, whom God gave, 
Earth may sing, and earth shall smart ! 
Attila, my Attila ! 

XXV 

Thus their prayer was raved and ceased. 
Then had Vengeance of her feast 
Scent in their quick pang to smite 
Which they knew not, but huge pain 
Urged them for some victim slain 
Swift, and blotted from the sight. 
Each at each, a crouching beast, 
Glared, and quivered for the word. 
Each at each, and all on that, 
Humped and grinning like a cat, 
Head-bound with its bridal-wreath 
Then the bitter chamber heard 
Vengeance in a cauldron seethe. 
Hurried counsel rage and craft 
Yelped to hungry men, whose teeth 
Hard the grey lip-ringlet gnawed, 
Gleaming till their fury laughed. 



BALLADS AND POEMS OP TRAGIC LIPE 27t> 

With the steel-hilt in the clutch, 

Eyes were shot on her that froze 

In their blood-thirst overawed ; 

Burned to rend, yet feared to touch. 

She that was his nuptial rose, 

She was of his heart's blood clad : 

Oh ! the last of him she had ! — 

Could a little fist as big 

As the southern summer fig, 

Push a dagger's point to pierce 

Eibs like those ? Who else ! They glared 

Each at each. Suspicion fierce 

Many a black remembrance bared. 

Attila, my Attila ! 
Death, who dares deny her guilt! 
Death, who says his blood she spilt ! 
Traitor he, who stands between ! 
Swift to hell, who harms the Queen ! 
She, the wild contention's cause, 
Combed her hair with quiet paws. 

Make the bed for Attila ! 



XXVI 

Night was on the host in arms. 
Night, as never night before, 
Hearkened to an army's roar 
Breaking up in snaky swarms : 
Torch and steel and snorting steed, 
Hunted by the cry of blood, 
Cursed with blindness, mad for day. 



280 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 

Where the torches ran a flood, 
Tales of him and of the deed 
Showered like a torrent spray. 
Fear of silence made them strive 
Loud in warrior-hymns that grew 
Hoarse for slaughter yet unwreaked. 
Ghostly Night across the hive, 
With a crimson finger drew 
Letters on her breast and shrieked. 
Night was on them like the mould 
On the buried half alive. 
Night, their bloody Queen, her fold 
Wound on them and struck them through. 
Make the bed for Attila ! 



XXVII 

Earth has got him whom God gave, 
Earth may sing, and earth shall smart ! 
None of earth shall know his grave. 
They that dig with Death depart. 
Attila, my Attila ! 

XXVIII 

Thus their prayer was raved and passed : 
Passed in peace their red sunset : 
Hewn and earthed those men of sweat 
Who had housed him in the vast, 
Where no mortal might declare, 
There lies he — his end was there ! 
Attila, my Attila ! 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 281 

XXIX 

Kingless was the army left : 
Of its head the race bereft. 
Every fury of the pit 
Tortured and dismembered it. 
Lo, upon a silent hour, 
When the pitch of frost subsides, 
Danube with a shout of power 
Loosens his imprisoned tides : 
Wide around the frighted plains 
Shake to hear his riven chains, 
Dreadfuller than heaven in wrath, 
As he makes himself a path : 
High leap the ice-cracks, towering pile 
Floes to bergs, and giant peers 
Wrestle on a drifted isle ; 
Island on ice-island rears ; 
Dissolution battles fast : 
Big the senseless Titans loom, 
Through a mist of common doom 
Striving which shall die the last : 
Till a gentle-breathing morn 
Frees the stream from bank to bank. 
So the Empire built of scorn 
Agonized, dissolved and sank. 
Of the Queen no more was told 
Than of leaf on Danube rolled. 
Make the bed for Attila ! 



ANEURIN'S HARP 



Prince of Bards was old Aneurin; 
He the grand Gododin sang; 
All his numbers threw such fire in, 
Struck his harp so wild a twang ; — 
Still the wakeful Briton borrows 
Wisdom from its ancient heat : 
Still it haunts our source of sorrows, 
Deep excess of liquor sweet ! 



ii 

Here the Briton, there the Saxon, 
Face to face, three fields apart, 
Thirst for light to lay their thwacks on 
Each the other with good heart. 
Dry the Saxon sits, 'mid dinful 
Noise of iron knits his steel : 
Fresh and roaring with a skinful, 
Britons round the hirlas reel. 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 283 



III 

Yellow flamed the nieady sunset ; 
Eed runs up the flag of morn. 
Signal for the British onset 
Hiccups through the British horn. 
Down these hillmen pour like cattle 
Sniffing pasture : grim below, 
Showing eager teeth of battle, 
In his spear-heads lies the foe. 

IV 

■ Monster of the sea ! we drive him 
Back into his hungry brine. 

- You shall lodge him, feed him, wive him. 
Look on us ; we stand in line. 

-Pale sea-monster! foul the waters 
Cast him ; foul he leaves our land. 

- You shall yield us land and daughters : 
Stay the tongue, and try the hand. 



Swift as torrent-streams our warriors, 
Tossing torrent lights, find way ; 
Burst the ridges, crowd the barriers, 
Pierce them where the spear-heads play ; 
Turn them as the clods in furrow, 
Top them like the leaping foam ; 
Sorrow to the mother, sorrow, 
Sorrow to the wife at home ! 



284 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 



VI 

Stags, they butted ; bulls, they bellowed ; 
Hounds, we baited them ; oh, brave ! 
Every second man, unfellowed, 
Took the strokes of two, and gave. 
Bare as hop-stakes in November's 
Mists they met our battle-flood: 
Hoary-red as Winter's embers 
Lay their dead lines done in blood. 

VII 

Thou, my Bard, didst hang thy lyre in 
Oak-leaves, and with crimson brand 
Rhythmic fury spent, Aneurin ; 
Songs the churls could understand : 
Thrumming on their Saxon sconces 
Straight, the invariable blow, 
Till they snorted true responses. 
Ever thus the Bard they know ! 

VIII 

But ere nightfall, harper lusty ! 
When the sun was like a ball 
Dropping on the battle dusty, 
What was yon discordant call ? 
Cambria's old metheglin demon 
Breathed against our rushing tide ; 
Clove us midst the threshing seamen : — 
Gashed, we saw our ranks divide ! 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 285 



IX 



Britain then with valedictory 
Shriek veiled off her face and knelt. 
Full of liquor, full of victory, 
Chief on chief old vengeance dealt. 
Backward swung their hurly-burly ; 
None but dead men kept the fight. 
They that drink their cup too early, 
Darkness they shall see ere night. 



Loud we heard the yellow rover 
Laugh to sleep, while we raged thick, 
Thick as ants the ant-hill over, 
Asking who has thrust the stick. 
Lo, as frogs that Winter cumbers 
Meet the Spring with stiffen'd yawn, 
We from our hard night of slumbers, 
Marched into the bloody dawn. 



Day on day we fought, though shattered ; 

Pushed and met repulses sharp, 

Till our Raven's plumes were scattered : 

All, save old Aneurin's harp. 

Hear it wailing like a mother 

O'er the strings of children slain! 

He in one tongue, in another, 

Alien, I ; one blood, yet twain. 



286 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TKAGIC LIFE 

XII 

Old Aneurin ! droop no longer. 
That squat ocean-scum, we own, 
Had fine stoutness, made us stronger, 
Brought us much-required backbone : 
Claimed of Power their dues, and granted 
Dues to Power in turn, when rose 
Mightier rovers ; they that planted 
Sovereign here the Norman nose. 

XIII 

Glorious men, with heads of eagles, 
Chopping arms, and cupboard lips ; 
Warriors, hunters, keen as beagles, 
Mounted aye on horse or ships. 
Active, being hungry creatures ; 
Silent, having nought to say : 
High they raised the lord of features, 
Saxon-worshipped to this day. 



Hear its deeds, the great recital ! 
Stout as bergs of Arctic ice 
Once it led, and lived ; a title 
Now it is, and names its price. 
This our Saxon brothers cherish : 
This, when by the worth of wits 
Lands are reared aloft, or perish, 
Sole illumes their lucre-pits. 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 287 

XV 

Know we not our wrongs, unwritten 
Though they be, Aneurin ? Sword, 
Song, and subtle mind, the Briton 
Brings to market, all ignored. 
'Gainst the Saxon's bone impinging, 
Still is our Gododin played ; 
Shamed we see him humbly cringing 
In a shadowy nose's shade. 

XVI 

Bitter is the weight that crushes 
Low, my Bard, thy race of fire. 
Here no fair young future blushes 
Bridal to a man's desire. 
Neither chief, nor aim, nor splendour 
Dressing distance, we perceive. 
Neither honour, nor the tender 
Bloom of promise, morn or eve. 

XVII 

Joined we are ; a tide of races 
Boiled to meet a common fate ; 
England clasps in her embraces 
Many : what is England's state ? 
England her distended middle 
Thumps with pride as Mammon's wife ; 
Says that thus she reads thy riddle, 
Heaven ! 't is heaven to plump her life. 



288 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 



XVIII 

O my Bard ! a yellow liquor, 
Like to that we drank of old — 
Gold is her metheglin beaker, 
She destruction drinks in gold. 
Warn her, Bard, that Power is pressing 
Hotly for his dues this hour ; 
Tell her that no drunken blessing 
Stops the onward march of Power. 

XIX 

Has she ears to take fore warnings 
She will cleanse her of her stains, 
Feed and speed for braver mornings 
Valorously the growth of brains. 
Power, the hard man knit for action, 
Reads each nation on the brow. 
Cripple, fool, and petrifaction, 
Pall to him — are falling now ! 



MEN AJSD MAN 



Men the Angels eyed; 

And here they were wild waves, 

And there as marsh descried, 

Men the Angels eyed, 

And liked the picture best 

Where they were greenly dressed 

In brotherhood of graves. 



ii 

Man the Angels marked : 
He led a host through murk, 
On fearful seas embarked, 
Man the Angels marked; 
To think without a nay, 
That he was good as they, 
And help him at his work. 



19 



290 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 



III 

Man and Angels, ye 

A sluggish fen shall drain, 

Shall quell a warring sea. 

Man and Angels, ye, 

Whom stain of strife befouls, 

A light to kindle souls 

Bear radiant in the stain. 



THE LAST CONTENTION 

i 

Young captain of a crazy bark ! 
tameless heart iu battered frame ! 
Thy sailing orders have a mark, 
And hers is not the name. 

ii 

For action all thine iron clanks 
In cravings for a splendid prize ; 
Again to race or bump thy planks 
With any flag that flies. 

in 

Consult them ; they are eloquent 
For senses not inebriate. 
They trust thee on the star intent, 
That leads to land their freight. 

IV 

And they have known thee high peruse 
The heavens, and deep the earth, till thou 
Didst into the flushed circle cruise 
Where reason quits the brow. 



292 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LD7E 

V 

Thou animatest ancient tales, 
To prove our world of linear seed : 
Thy very virtue now assails, 
A tempter to mislead. 

VI 

But thou hast answer : I am I ; 
My passion hallows, bids command: 
And she is gracious, she is nigh : 
One motion of the hand ! 

VII 

It will suffice ; a whirly tune 
These winds will pipe, and thou perform 
The nodded part of pantaloon 
In thy created storm. 

VIII 

Admires thee Nature with much pride ; 
She clasps thee for a gift of morn, 
Till thou art set against the tide, 
And then beware her scorn. 

IX 

Sad issue, should that strife befall 
Between thy mortal ship and thee ! 
It writes the melancholy scrawl ! 
Of wreckage over sea. 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 293 



This lady of the luting tongue, 
The flash in darkness, billow's grace, 
For thee the worship ; for the young 
In muscle the embrace. 



XI 

Soar on thy manhood clear from those 
"Whose toothless Winter claws at May, 
And take her as the vein of rose 
Athwart an evening grey. 



PERIANDEK 



How died Melissa none dares shape in words. 

A woman who is wife despotic lords 

Count faggot at the question, Shall she live ! 

Her son, because his brows were black of her, 

Runs barking for his bread, a fugitive, 

And Corinth frowns on them that feed the cur. 



ii 

There is no Corinth save the whip and curb 

Of Corinth, high Periander ; the superb 

In magnanimity, in rule severe. 

Up on his marble fortress-tower he sits, 

The city under him : a white yoked steer, 

That bears his heart for pulse, his head for wits. 

in 

Bloom of the generous fires of his fair Spring 
Still coloured him when men forbore to sting ; 
Admiring meekly where the ordered seeds 
Of his good sovereignty showed gardens trim ; 
And owning that the hoe he struck at weeds 
Was author of the flowers raised face to him. 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 



295 



IV 



His Corinth, to each mood subservient 

In homage, made he as an instrument 

To yield him music with scarce touch of stops. 

He breathed, it piped ; he moved, it rose to fly : 

At whiles a bloodhorse racing till it drops ; 

At whiles a crouching dog, on him all eye. 



His wisdom men acknowledged ; only one, 
The creature, issue of him, Lycophron, 
That rebel with his mother in his brows, 
Contested : such an infamous would foul 
Pirene! Little heed where he might house 
The prince gave, hearing : so the fox, the owl ! 



VI 



To prove the Gods benignant to his rule, 
The years, which fasten rigid whom they cool, 
Eeviewing, saw him hold the seat of power. 
A grey one asked : Who next ? nor answer had 
One greyer pointed on the pallid hour 
To come : a river dried of waters glad. 



296 BALLADS AND POEMS OP TBAGIC LIFE 



VII 

For which of his male issue promised grip 
To stride yon people, with the curb and whip ? 
This Lycophron! he sole, the father like, 
Fired prospect of a line in one strong tide, 
By right of mastery ; stern will to strike ; 
Pride to support the stroke : yea, Godlike pride 1 



VIII 

Himself the prince beheld a failing fount. 
His line stretched back unto its holy mount : 
The thirsty onward waved for him no sign. 
Then stood before his vision that hard son. 
The seizure of a passion for his line 
Impelled him to the path of Lycophron. 



IX 

The youth was tossing pebbles in the sea ; 

A figure shunned along the busy quay, 

Perforce of the harsh edict for who dared 

Address him outcast. Naming it, he crossed 

His father's look with look that proved them paired 

For stiffness, and another pebble tossed. 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LDTE 297 



An exile to the Island ere nightfall 

He passed from sight, from the hushed mouths of all. 

It had resemblance to a death : and on, 

Against a coast where sapphire shattered white, 

The seasons rolled like troops of billows blown 

To spraymist. The prince gazed on capping night. 



XI 

Deaf Age spake in his ear with shouts : Thy son ! 

Deep from his heart Life raved of work not done. 

He heard historic echoes moan his name, 

As of the prince in whom the race had pause ; 

Till Tyranny paternity became, 

And him he hated loved he for the cause. 



XII 

Not Lycophron the exile now appeared, 
But young Periander, from the shadow cleared, 
That haunted his rebellious brows. The prince 
Grew bright for him ; saw youth, if seeming loth, 
Return : and of pure pardon to convince, 
Despatched the messenger most dear with both. 



298 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 

XIII 

His daughter, from the exile's Island home, 
Wrote, as a flight of halcyons o'er the foam, 
Sweet words : her brother to his father bowed ; 
Accepted his peace-offering, and rejoiced. 
To bring him back a prince the father vowed, 
Commanded man the oars, the white sails hoist. 



XIV 

He waved the fleet to strain its westward way 

On to the sea-hued hills that crown the bay : 

Soil of those hospitable islanders 

Whom now his heart, for honour to his blood, 

Thanked. They should learn what boons a prince confers 

When happiness enjoins him gratitude ! 



xv 

In watch upon the offing, worn with haste 
To see his youth revived, and, close embraced, 
Pardon who had subdued him, who had gained 
Surely the stoutest battle between two 
Since Titan pierced by young Apollo stained 
Earth's breast, the prince looked forth, himself looked 
through. 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LD7E 299 

XVI 

Errors aforetime unperceived were bared, 

To be by his young masterful repaired : 

Benewed his great ideas goue to smoke ; 

His policy confirmed amid the surge 

Of States and people fretting at his yoke. 

And lo, the fleet brown-flocked on the sea-verge! 



XVII 

Oars pulled : they streamed in harbour ; without cheer 

For welcome shadowed round the heaving bier. 

They, whose approach in such rare pomp and stress 

Of numbers the free islanders dismayed 

At Tyranny come masking to oppress, 

Found Lycophron this breathless, this ione-laid. 



XVIII 

Who smote the man thrown open to young joy ? 

The image of the mother of his boy 

Came forth from his unwary breast in wreaths, 

With eyes. And shall a woman, that extinct, 

Smite out of dust the Powerful who breathes ? 

Her loved the son ; her served; they lay close-linked! 



300 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 



XIX 

Dead was he, and demanding earth. Demand 
Sharper for vengeance of an instant hand, 
The Tyrant in the father heard him cry, 
And raged a plague ; to prove on free Hellenes 
How prompt the Tyrant for the Persian dye ; 
How black his Gods behind their marble screens. 



SOLON 



The Tyrant passed, and friendlier was his eye 
On the great man of Athens, whom for foe 
He knew, than on the sycophantic fry 
That broke as waters round a galley's flow, 
Bubbles at prow and foam along the wake. 
Solidity the Thunderer could not shake, 
Beneath an adverse wind still stripping bare, 
His kinsman, of the light-in-cavern look, 
From thought drew, and a countenance could wear 
Not less at peace than fields in Attic air 
Shorn, and shown fruitful by the reaper's hook. 



ii 

Most enviable so ; yet much insane 

To deem of minds of men they grow ! these sheep, 

By fits wild horses, need the crook and rein ; 

Hot bulls by fits, pure wisdom hold they cheap, 

My Lawgiver, when fiery is the mood. 

For ones and twos and threes thy words are good; 

For thine own government are pillars : mine 



302 BALLADS AND TOEMS OF TEAGIC LIFE 

Stand acts to fit the herd ; which has quick thirst, 

Rejecting elegiacs, though they shine 

On polished brass, and, worthy of the Nine, 

In showering columns from their fountain burst. 



in 

Thus museful rode the Tyrant, princely plumed, 
To his high seat upon the sacred rock : 
And Solon, blank beside his rule, resumed 
The meditation which that passing mock 
Had buffeted awhile to sallowness. 
He little loved the man, his office less, 
Yet owned him for a flower of his kind. 
Therefore the heavier curse on Athens he ! 
The people grew not in themselves, but blind, 
Accepted sight from him, to him resigned 
Their hopes of stature, rootless as at sea. 

IV 

As under sea lay Solon's work, or seemed 

By turbid shore- waves beaten day by day ; 

Defaced, half-formless, like an image dreamed, 

Or child that fashioned in another clay 

Appears, by strangers' hands to home returned. 

But shall the Present tyrannize us ? earned 

It was in some way, justly says the sage. 

One sees not how, while husbanding regrets ; 

While tossing scorn abroad from righteous rage, 

High vision is obscured ; for this is age 

When robbed — more infant than the babe it frets! 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 303 



Yet see Athenians treading the black path 

Laid by a prince's shadow ! well content 

To wait his pleasure, shivering at his wrath : 

They bow to their accepted Orient 

With offer of the all that renders bright : 

Forgetful of the growth of men to light, 

As creatures reared on Persian milk they bow. 

Unripe ! unripe ! The times are overcast. 

But still may they who sowed behind the plough 

True seed fix in the mind an unborn Now 

To make the plagues afflicting us things past. 



BELLEEOPHOK 



Maimed, beggared, grey ; seeking an alms ; with nod 
Of palsy doing task of thanks for bread ; 

Upon the stature of a God, 
He whom the Gods have struck bends low his head. 



ii 

Weak words he has, that slip the nerveless tongue 
Deformed, like his great frame : a broken arc : 

Once radiant as the javelin flung 
Right at the centre breastplate of his mark. 

in 

Oft pausing on his white-eyed inward look, 
Some undermountain narrative he tells, 

As gapped by Lykian heat the brook 
Cut from the source that in the upland swells. 

IV 

The cottagers who dole him fruit and crust, 
With patient inattention hear him prate : 

And comes the snow, and comes the dust, 
Comes the old wanderer, more bent of late. 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 305 



A crazy beggar grateful for a meal 
Has ever of himself a world to say. 

For them he is an ancient wheel 
Spinning a knotted thread the livelong day. 

VI 

He cannot, nor do they, the tale connect ; 
For never singer in the land had been 
Who him for theme did not reject : 
Spurned of the hoof that sprang the Hippocrene. 

VII 

Albeit a theme of flame to bring them straight 
The snorting white-winged brother of the wave, 

They hear him as a thing by fate 
Cursed in unholy babble to his grave. 

VIII 

As men that spied the wings, that heard the snort, 
Their sires have told ; and of a martial prince 

Bestriding him ; and old report 
Speaks of a monster slain by one long since. 

IX 

There is that story of the golden bit 

By Goddess given to tame the lightning steed : 

A mortal who could mount, and sit 

Flying, and up Olympus midway speed. 
20 



306 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 



He rose like the loosed fountain's utmost leap; 
He played the star at span of heaven right o'er 

Men's heads : they saw the snowy steep, 
Saw the winged shoulders : him they saw not more. 

XI 

He fell : and says the shattered man, I fell : 
And sweeps an arm the height an eagle wins ; 

And in his breast a mouthless well 
Heaves the worn patches of his coat of skins. 

XII 

Lo, this is he in whom the surgent springs 
Of recollections richer than our skies 

To feed the flow of tuneful strings, 
Show but a pool of scum for shooting flies. 



PHA^THOK 

ATTEMPTED IN THE GALLIAMBIC MEASURE. 

At the coming up of Phoebus the all-luminous charioteer, 

Double-visaged stand the mountains in imperial multi- 
tudes, 

And with shadows dappled men sing to him , Hail, Benefi- 
cent! 

For they shudder chill, the earth-vales, at his clouding, 
shudder to black ; 

In the light of him there is music thro' the poplar and 
river-sedge, 

Eenovation, chirp of brooks, hum of the forest — an ocean- 
song. 

Never pearl from ocean-hollows by the diver exultingly, 

In his breathlessness, above thrust, is as earth to Helios. 

Who usurps his place there, rashest? Aphrodite's loved 
one it is ! 

To his son the flaming Sun-God, to the tender youth, 
Phaethon, 

Kule of day this day surrenders as a thing hereditary, 

Having sworn by Styx tremendous, for the proof of his 
parentage, 

He would grant his son's petition, whatsoever the sign 
thereof. 



308 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 

Then, rejoiced, the stripling answered : < Rule of day give 

me ; give it me, 
' Give me place that men may see me how I blaze, and 

transcendingly, 
' I, divine, proclaim my birthright.' Darkened Helios, and 

his utterance 
Choked prophetic : < half mortal ! ' he exclaimed in an 

agony, 
* lost son of mine ! lost son ! No ! put a prayer for 

another thing : 
' Not for this : insane to wish it, and to crave the gift 

impious ! 
' Cannot other gifts my godhead shed upon thee ? miracu- 
lous 
' Mighty gifts to prove a blessing, that to earth thou shalt 

be a joy ? 
1 Gifts of healing, wherewith men walk as the Gods benefi- 
cently ; 
' As a God to sway to concord hearts of men, reconciling 

them; 
' Gifts of verse, the lyre, the laurel, therewithal that thine 

origin 
' Shall be known even as when I strike on the string'd shell 

with melody, 
'And the golden notes, like medicine, darting straight to the 

cavities, 
' Fill them up, till hearts of men bound as the billows, the 

ships thereon.' 
Thus intently urged the Sun-God; but the force of his 

eloquence 
Was the pressing on of sea- waves scattered broad from the 

rocks away. 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 309 

What shall move a soul from madness ? Lost, lost in 

delirium, 
Rock-fast, the adolescent to his father, irreverent, 
* By the oath ! the oath ! thine oath ! ' cried. The effulgent 

foreseer then, 
Quivering in his loins parental, on the boy's beaming 

countenance 
Looked and moaned, and urged him for love's sake, for 

sweet life's sake, to yield the claim, 
To abandon his mad hunger, and avert the calamity. 
But he, vehement, passionate, called out : * Let me show I 

am what I say, 
' That the taunts I hear be silenced : I am stung with their 

whispering. 
' Only, Thou, my Father, Thou tell how aloft the revolving 

wheels, 
' How aloft the cleaving horse-crests I may guide peremp- 
torily, 
' Till I drink the shadows, fire-hot, like a flower celestial, 
' And my fellows see me curbing the fierce steeds, the dear 

dew-drinkers : 
' Yea, for this I gaze on life's light ; throw for this any 

sacrifice.' 

All the end foreseeing, Phoebus, to his oath irrevocable, 

Bowed obedient, deploring the insanity pitiless. 

Then the flame-outsnorting horses were led forth : it was so 

decreed. 
They were yoked before the glad youth by his sister- 

ancillaries. 
Swift the ripple ripples follow'd, as of aureate Helicon, 



310 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 

Down their flanks, while they impatient pawed desire of 

the distances, 
And the bit with fury champed. Oh ! unimaginable delight! 
Unimagined speed and splendour in the circle of upper air ! 
Glory grander than the armed host upon earth singing 

victory ! 
Chafed the youth with their spirit surcharged, as when 

blossom is shaken by winds, 
Marked that labour by his sister Phaethontiades finished, 

quick 
On the slope of the car his forefoot set assured : and the 

morning rose : 
Seeing whom, and what a day dawned, stood the God, as in 

harvest fields, 
When the reaper grasps the full sheaf and the sickle that 

severs it : 
Hugged the withered head with one hand, with the other, 

to indicate 
(If this woe might be averted, this immeasurable evil), 
Laid the kindling course in view, told how the reins to 

manipulate : 
Named the horses fondly, fearful, caution'd urgently 

betweenwhiles : 
Their diverging tempers dwelt on, and their wantonness, 

wickedness, 
That the voice of Gods alone held in restraint ; but the 

voice of Gods ; 
None but Gods can curb. He spake ; vain were the words ; 

scarcely listening, 
Mounted Phaethon, swinging reins loose, and, < Behold me, 

companions, 



BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE 311 

' It is I here, I ! ' lie shouted, glancing down with supremacy ; 
' Not to any of you was this gift granted ever in annals of 

men ; 
' I alone what only Gods can, I alone am governing day ! ' 
Short the triumph, brief his rapture : see a hurricane 

suddenly 
Beat the lifting billow crestless, roll it broken this way and 

that ; — 
At the leap on yielding ether, in despite of his reprimand, 
Swayed tumultuous the fire-steeds, plunging reckless hither 

and yon ; 
Unto men a great amazement, all agaze at the Troubled 

East : — 
Pitifully for mastery striving in ascension, the charioteer, 
Keminiscent, drifts of counsel caught confused in his arid 

wits ; 
The reins stiff ahind his shoulder madly pulled for the 

mastery, 
Till a thunder off the tense chords thro' his ears dinned 

horrible. 
Panic seized him : fled his vision of inviolability ; 
Fled the dream that he of mortals rode mischances pre- 
dominant ; 
And he cried, ' Had I petitioned for a cup of chill aconite, 
'My descent to awful Hades had been soft, for now must 

I go . 
'With the curse by father Zeus cast on ambition immoderate. 
' Oh, my sisters ! Thou, my Goddess, in whose love I was 

enviable, 
' From whose arms I rushed bef renzied, what a wreck will 

this body be, 



312 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TKAGIC LIFE 

' That admired of thee stood rose-warm in the courts where 
thy mysteries 

' Celebration had from me, me the most splendidly privi- 
leged ! 

' Never more shall I thy temple fill with incenses bewilder- 
ing; 

' Not again hear thy half -murmurs — I am lost ! — never, 
never more. 

' I am wrecked on seas of air, hurled to my death in a vessel 
of flame ! 

' Hither, sisters ! Father, save me ! Hither, succour me, 
Cypria ! ' 

Now a wail of men to Zeus rang : from Olympus the 
Thunderer 

Saw the rage of the havoc wide-mouthed, the bright car 
superimpending 

Over Asia, Africa, low down ; ruin flaming over the vales ; 

Light disastrous rising savage out of smoke inveterately ; 

Beast-black, conflagration like a menacing shadow move 

With voracious roaring southward, where aslant, insuffer- 
able, 

The bright steeds careered their parched way down an arc 
of the firmament. 

For the day grew like to thick night, and the orb was its 
beacon-fire, 

And from hill to hill of darkness burst the day's apparition 
forth. 

Lo, a wrestler, not a God, stood in the chariot ever lowering : 

Lo, the shape of one who raced there to outstrip the legiti- 
mate hours : 



"BALLADS AND POEMS OF TKAGIC LIFE 313 

Lo, the ravish'd beams of Phoebus dragged in shame at the 
chariot-wheels : 

Light of days of happy pipings by the mead-singing 
rivulets ! 

Lo, lo, increasing lustre, torrid breath to the nostrils ; lo, 

Torrid brilliancies thro' the vapours lighten swifter, pene- 
trate them, 

Fasten merciless, ruminant, hueless, on earth's frame crack- 
ling busily. 

He aloft, the frenzied driver, in the glow of the universe, 

Like the paling of the dawn-star withers visibly, he aloft : 

Bitter fury in his aspect, bitter death in the heart of him. 

Crouch the herds, contract the reptiles, crouch the lions 
under their paws. 

White as metal in the furnace are the faces of human- 
kind: 

Inarticulate creatures of earth, dumb all await the ultimate 
shock. 

To the bolt he launched, ' Strike dead, thou,' uttered Zeus, 

very terrible ; 
'Perish folly, else 'tis man's fate'; and the bolt flew 

unerringly. 
Then the kindler stooped ; from the torch-car down the 

measureless altitudes 
Leaned his rayless head, relinquished rein and footing, 

raised not a cry. 
Like the flower on the river's surface when expanding it 

vanishes, 
Gave his limbs to right and left, quenched : and so fell he 

precipitate, 



314 BALLADS AND POEMS OF TEAGIC LIFE 

Seen of men as a glad rain-fall, sending coolness yet ere it 
comes : 

So he showered above them, shadowed o'er the blue archi- 
pelagoes, 

O'er the silken-shining pastures of the continents and the 
isles ; 

So descending brought revival to the greenery of our earth. 

Lither, noisy in the breezes now his sisters shivering weep, 
By the river flowing smooth out to the vexed sea of Adria, 
Where he fell, and where they suffered sudden change to 

the tremulous 
Ever- wailful trees bemoaning him, a bruised purple cycla- 
men. 



A READING OF EARTH 
SEED-TIME 



Flowers of the willow-herb are wool; 
Flowers of the briar berries red; 
Speeding their seed as the breeze may rule, 
Flowers of the thistle loosen the thread. 
Flowers of the clematis drip in beard, 
Slack from the fir-tree youngly climbed ; 
Chaplets in air, flies foliage seared; 
Heeled upon earth, lie clusters rimed. 

ii 

Where were skies of the mantle stained 
Orange and scarlet, a coat of frieze 
Travels from North till day has waned, 
Tattered, soaked in the ditch's dyes; 
Tumbles the rook under grey or slate ; 
Else enfolding us, damps to the bone ; 
Narrows the world to my neighbour's gate; 
Paints me Life as a wheezy crone. 



316 A READING OF EARTH 



III 

Now seems none but the spider lord; 

Star in circle his web waits prey, 

Silvering bush-mounds, blue brushing sward; 

Slow runs the hour, swift flits the ray. 

Now to his thread-shroud is he nigh, 

Nigh to the tangle where wings are sealed, 

He who frolicked the jewelled fly; 

All is adroop on the down and the weald. 

IV 

Mists more lone for the sheep-bell enwrap 
Nights that tardily let slip a morn 
Paler than moons, and on noontide's lap 
Flame dies cold, like the rose late born. 
Eose born late, born withered in bud! — 
I, even I, for a zenith of sun 
Cry, to fulfil me, nourish my blood: 
for a day of the long light, one! 



Master the blood, nor read by chills, 
Earth admonishes : Hast thou ploughed, 
Sown, reaped, harvested grain for the mills, 
Thou hast the light over shadow of cloud. 
Steadily eyeing, before that wail 
Animal-infant, thy mind began, 
Momently nearer me : should sight fail, 
Plod in the track of the husbandman. 



A READING OF EARTH 317 



Verily now is our season of seed, 

Now in our Autumn ; and Earth discerns 

Them that have served her in them that can read, 

Glassing, where under the surface she burns, 

Quick at her wheel, while the fuel, decay, 

Brightens the fire of renewal: and we? 

Death is the word of a bovine day, 

Know you the breast of the springing To-be. 



HARD WEATHER 

Bursts from a rending East in flaws 

The young green leaflet's harrier, sworn 

To strew the garden, strip the shaws, 

And show our Spring with banner torn. 

Was ever such virago morn? 

The wind has teeth, the wind has claws. 

All the wind's wolves through woods are loose, 

The wild wind's falconry aloft. 

Shrill underfoot the grassblade shrews, 

At gallop, clumped, and down the croft 

Bestrid by shadows, beaten, tossed; 

It seems a scythe, it seems a rod. 

The howl is up at the howl's accost; 

The shivers greet and the shivers nod. 

Is the land ship? we are rolled, we drive 
Tritonly, cleaving hiss and hum; 
Whirl with the dead, or mount or dive, 
Or down in dregs, or on in scum. 
And drums the distant, pipes the near, 
And vale and hill are grey in grey, 
As when the surge is crumbling sheer, 
And sea-mews wing the haze of spray. 
Clouds — are they bony witches? — swarms, 
Darting swift on the robber's flight, 
Hurry an infant sky in arms : 
It peeps, it becks; 'tis day, 'tis night. 



A READING OF EARTH 319 

Black while over the loop of blue 

The swathe is closed, like shroud on corse. 

Lo, as if swift the Furies flew, 

The Fates at heel at a cry to horse! 

Interpret me the savage whirr : 
And is it Nature scourged, or she, 
Her offspring's executioner, 
Reducing land to barren sea? 
But is there meaning in a day 
When this fierce angel of the air, 
Intent to throw, and haply slay, 
Can, for what breath of life we bear, 
Exact the wrestle? Call to mind 
The many meanings glistening up 
When Nature to her nurslings kind, 
Hands them the fruitage and the cup! 
And seek we rich significance 
Not otherwhere than with those tides 
Of pleasure on the sunned expanse, 
Whose flow deludes, whose ebb derides? 

Look in the face of men who fare 

Lock-mouthed, a match in lungs and thews 

For this fierce angel of the air, 

To twist with him and take his bruise. 

That is the face beloved of old 

Of Earth, young mother of her brood : 

Nor broken for us shows the mould 

When muscle is in mind renewed: 

Though farther from her nature rude, 

Yet nearer to her spirit's hold: 



320 A READING OF EARTH 

And though of gentler mood serene, 

Still forceful of her fountain-jet. 

So shall her blows be shrewdly met, 

Be luminously read the scene 

Where Life is at her grindstone set, 

That she may give us edgeing keen, 

String us for battle, till as play 

The common strokes of fortune shower. 

Such meaning in a dagger-day 

Our wits may clasp to wax in power. 

Yea, feel us warmer at her breast, 

By spin of blood in lusty drill, 

Than when her honeyed hands caressed, 

And Pleasure, sapping, seemed to fill. 

Behold the life at ease; it drifts. 

The sharpened life commands its course. 

She winnows, winnows roughly; sifts, 

To dip her chosen in her source : 

Contention is the vital force, 

Whence pluck they brain, her prize of gifts, 

Sky of the senses! on which height, 

Not disconnected, yet released, 

They see how spirit comes to light, 

Through conquest of the inner beast, 

Which Measure tames to movement sane, 

In harmony with what is fair. 

Never is Earth misread by brain: 

That is the welling of her, there 

The mirror: with one step beyond, 

For likewise is it voice; and more, 



A READING OF EARTH '621 

Benignest kinship bids respond, 
When wail the weak, and then restore 
Whom days as fell as this may rive, 
While Earth sits ebon in her gloom, 
Us atomies of life alive 
Unheeding, bent on life to come. 
Her children of the labouring brain, 
These are the champions of the race, 
True parents, and the sole humane, 
With understanding for their base. 
Earth yields the milk, but all her mind 
Is vowed to thresh for stouter stock. 
Her passion for old giantkind, 
That scaled the mount, uphurled the rock, 
Devolves on them who read aright 
Her meaning and devoutly serve ; 
Nor in her starlessness of night 
Peruse her with the craven nerve: 
But even as she from grass to corn, 
To eagle high from grubbing mole, 
Prove in strong brain her noblest born, 
The station for the flight of soul. 



21 



THE SOUTH-WESTER 

Day of the cloud in fleets ! day 
Of wedded white and blue, that sail 
Immingled, with a footing ray- 
In shadow-sandals down our vale ! — 
And swift to ravish golden meads, 
Swift up the run of turf it speeds, 
Thy bright of head aud dark of heel, 
To where the hilltop flings on sky, 
As hawk from wrist or dust from wheel, 
The tiptoe scalers tossed to fly : — 
Thee the last thunder's caverned peal 
Delivered from a wailful night: 
All dusky round thy cradled light, 
Those brine-born issues, now in bloom 
Transfigured, wreathed as raven's plume 
And briony-leaf to watch thee lie : 
Dark eyebrows o'er a dreamful eye 
Nigh opening : till in the braid 
Of purpled vapours thou wert rosed : 
Till that new babe a Goddess maid 
Appeared and vividly disclosed 
Her beat of life : then crimson played 
On edges of the plume and leaf: 
Shape had they and fair feature brief, 
The wings, the smiles : they flew the breast, 
Earth's milk. But what imperial march 



A READING OF EARTH 323 

Their standards led for earth, none guessed 

Ere upward of a coloured arch, 

An arrow straining eager head 

Lightened, and high for zenith sped. 

Fierier followed; followed Fire. 

Name the young lord of Earth's desire, 

"Whose look her wine is, and whose mouth 

Her music! Beauteous was she seen 

Beneath her midway West of South ; 

And sister was her quivered green 

To sapphire of the Nereid eyes 

On sea when sun is breeze ; she winked 

As they, and waved, heaved waterwise 

Her flood of leaves and grasses linked : 

A myriad lustrous butterflies 

A moment in the fluttering sheen; 

Becapped with the slate air that throws 

The reindeer's antlers black between 

Low-frowning and wide-fallen snows, 

A minute after; hooded, stoled 

To suit a graveside Season's dirge. 

Lo, but the breaking of a surge, 

And she is in her lover's fold, 

Illumined o'er a boundless range 

Anew : and through quick morning hours 

The Tropic- Arctic counterchange 

Did seem to pant in beams and showers. 

But noon beheld a larger heaven ; 
Beheld on our reflecting field 
The Sower to the Bearer given, 
And both their inner sweetest yield, 



324 A READING OF EARTH 

Fresh as when dews were grey or first 

Keceived the flush of hues athirst. 

Heard we the woodland, eyeing sun, 

As harp and harper were they one. 

A murky cloud a fair pursued, 

Assailed, and felt the limbs elude : 

He sat him down to pipe his woe, 

And some strange beast of sky became: 

A giant's club withheld the blow; 

A milky cloud went all to flame. 

And there were groups where silvery springs 

The ethereal forest showed begirt 

By companies in choric rings, 

Whom but to see made ear alert. 

For music did each movement rouse, 

And motion was a minstrel's rage 

To have our spirits out of house, 

And bathe them on the open page. 



This was a day that knew not age. 

Since flew the vapoury twos and threes 

From western pile to eastern rack; 

As on from peaks of Pyrenees 

To Graians ; youngness ruled the track. 

When songful beams were shut in caves, 

And rainy drapery swept across ; 

When the ranked clouds were downy waves, 

Breast of swan, eagle, albatross, 

In ordered lines to screen the blue, 

Youngest of light was nigh, we knew. 



A HEADING OF EARTH 325 

The silver finger of it laughed 
Along the narrow rift : it shot, 
Slew the huge gloom with golden shaft, 
Then haled on high the volumed blot, 
To build the hurling palace, cleave 
The dazzling chasm ; the flying nests, 
The many glory-garlands weave, 
Whose presence not our sight attests 
Till wonder with the splendour blent, 
And passion for the beauty flown, 
Make evanescence permanent, 
The thing at heart our endless own. 

Only at gathered eve knew we 

The marvels of the day : for then 

Mount upon mountain out of sea 

Arose, and to our spacious ken 

Trebled sublime Olympus round 

In towering amphitheatre. 

Colossal on enormous mound, 

Majestic gods we saw confer. 

They wafted the Dream-messenger 

From off the loftiest, the crowned: 

That Lady of the hues of foam 

In sun-rays : who, close under dome, 

A figure on the foot's descent, 

Irradiate to vapour went, 

As one whose mission was resigned; 

Dispieced, undraped, dissolved to threads. 

Melting she passed into the mind, 

Where immortal with mortal weds. 



326 A READING OF EARTH 

Whereby was known that we had viewed 
The union of our earth and skies 
Renewed: nor less alive renewed 
Than when old bards, in nature wise, 
Conceived pure beauty given to eyes, 
And with undyingness imbued. 
Pageant of man's poetic brain, 
His grand procession of the song, 
It was ; the Muses and their train ; 
Their God to lead the glittering throng; 
At whiles a beat of forest gong; 
At whiles a glimpse of Python slain. 
Mostly divinest harmony, 
The lyre, the dance. We could believe 
A life in orb and brook and tree 
And cloud : and still holds Memory 
A morning in the eyes of eve. 



THE THRUSH IN FEBRUARY 

I know him, February's thrush, 

And loud at eve he valentines 

On sprays that paw the naked bush 

Where soon will sprout the thorns and bines. 

Now ere the foreign singer thrills 
Our vale his plain-song pipe he pours, 
A herald of the million bills ; 
And heed him not, the loss is yours. 

My study, flanked with ivied fir 

And budded beech with dry leaves curled, 

Perched over yew and juniper, 

He neighbours, piping to his world : — 

The wooded pathways dank on brown, 
The branches on grey cloud a web, 
The long green roller of the down, 
An image of the deluge-ebb : — 

And farther, they may hear along 
The stream beneath the poplar row, 
By fits, like welling rocks, the song 
Spouts of a blushful Spring in flow. 



328 A READING OF EARTH 

But most he loves to front the vale 
When waves of warm South-western rains 
Have left our heavens clear in pale, 
With faintest beck of moist red veins: 



Vermilion wings, by distance held 
To pause anight while fleeting swift: 
And high aloft the pearl inshelled 
Her lucid glow in glow will lift; 

A little south of coloured sky; 
Directing, gravely amorous, 
The human of a tender eye 
Through pure celestial on us : 

Kernote, not alien; still, not cold; 
Unraying yet, more pearl than star; 
She seems a while the vale to hold 
In trance, and homelier makes the far. 

Then Earth her sweet unscented breathes; 
An orb of lustre quits the height; 
And like broad iris-flags, iD wreaths 
The sky takes darkness, long ere quite. 

His Island voice then shall you hear, 
Nor ever after separate 
Prom such a twilight of the year 
Advancing to the vernal gate. 



A READING OF EARTH 329 

He sings me, out of Winter's throat, 
The young time with the life ahead ; 
And my young time his leaping note 
Recalls to spirit-mirth from dead. 



Imbedded in a land of greed, 
Of mammon-quakings dire as Earth's, 
My care was but to soothe my need ; 
At peace among the little worths. 

To light and song my yearning aimed; 
To that deep breast of song and light 
Which men have barrenest proclaimed; 
As 't is to senses pricked with fright. 

So mine are these new fruitings rich 
The simple to the common brings; 
I keep the youth of souls who pitch 
Their joy in this old heart of things : 

Who feel the Coming young as aye, 
Thrice hopeful on the ground we plough; 
Alive for life, awake to die ; 
One voice to cheer the seedling Now. 

Full lasting is the song, though he, 
The singer, passes: lasting too, 
For souls not lent in usury, 
The rapture of the forward view. 



330 A READING OP EARTH 

With that I bear my senses fraught 
Till what I am fast shoreward drives. 
They are the vessel of the Thought. 
The vessel splits, the Thought survives. 



Nought else are we when sailing brave, 
Save husks to raise and bid it burn. 
Glimpse of its livingness will wave 
A light the senses can discern 

Across the river of the death, 

Their close. Meanwhile, O twilight bird 

Of promise ! bird of happy breath ! 

I hear, I would the City heard. 

The City of the smoky fray ; 
A prodded ox, it drags and moans : 
Its Morrow no man's child; its Day 
A vulture's morsel beaked to bones. 

It strives without a mark for strife; 
It feasts beside a famished host : 
The loose restraint of wanton life, 
That threatened penance in the ghost ! 

Yet there our battle urges ; there 
Spring heroes many : issuing thence, 
Names that should leave no vacant air 
For fresh delight in confidence. 



A READING OF EARTH 331 

Life was to them the bag of grain, 
And Death the weedy harrow's tooth. 
Those warriors of the sighting brain 
Give worn Humanity new youth. 



Our song and star are they to lead 
The tidal multitude and blind 
From bestial to the higher breed 
By fighting souls of love divined. 

They scorned the ventral dream of peace, 
Unknown in nature. This they knew : 
That life begets with fair increase 
Beyond the flesh, if life be true. 

Just reason based on valiant blood, 
The instinct bred afield would match 
To pipe thereof a swelling flood, 
Were men of Earth made wise in watch. 

Though now the numbers count as drops 
An urn might bear, they father Time. 
She shapes anew her dusty crops ; 
Her quick in their own likeness climb. 

Of their own force do they create; 
They climb to light, in her their root. 
Your brutish cry at muffled fate 
She smites with pangs of worse than brute. 



332 A READING OF EARTH 

She. judged of shrinking nerves, appears 
A Mother whom no cry can melt; 
But read her past desires and fears, 
The letters on her breast are spelt. 

A slayer, yea, as when she pressed 
Her savage to the slaughter-heaps, 
To sacrifice she prompts her best: 
She reaps them as the sower reaps. 

But read her thought to speed the race, 
And stars rush forth of blackest night : 
You chill not at a cold embrace 
To come, nor dread a dubious might. 

Her double visage, double voice, 
In oneness rise to quench the doubt. 
This breath, her gift, has only choice 
Of service, breathe we in or out. 

Since Pain and Pleasure on each hand 
Led our wild steps from slimy rock 
To yonder sweeps of gardenland, 
We breathe but to be sword or block. 

The sighting brain her good decree 
Accepts; obeys those guides, in faith, 
By reason hourly fed, that she, 
To some the clod, to some the wraith, 



A READING OF EARTH 333 

Is more, no mask; a flame, a stream. 
Flame, stream, are we, in mid career 
From torrent source, delirious dream, 
To heaven-reflecting currents clear. 

And why the sons of Strength have been 
Her cherished offspring ever; how 
The Spirit served by her is seen 
Through Law; perusing love will show. 

Love born of knowledge, love that gains 
Vitality as Earth it mates, 
The meaning of the Pleasures, Pains, 
The Life, the Death, illuminates. 

For love we Earth, then serve we all ; 
Her mystic secret then is ours : 
We fall, or view our treasures fall, 
Unclouded, as beholds her flowers 

Earth, from a night of frosty wreck, 
Enrobed in morning's mounted fire, 
When lowly, with a broken neck, 
The crocus lays her cheek to mire. 



THE APPEASEMENT OF DEMETER 



Demeter devastated our good land, 
In blackness for her daughter snatched below. 
Smoke-pillar or loose hillock was the sand, 
Where soil had been to clasp warm seed and throw 
The wheat, vine, olive, ripe to Summer's ray. 
Now whether night advancing, whether day, 

Scarce did the baldness show: 
The hand of man was a defeated hand. 



n 



Necessity, the primal goad to growth, 

Stood shrunken; Youth and Age appeared as one; 

Like Winter Summer; good as labour sloth; 

Nor was there answer wherefore beamed the sun, 

Or why men drew the breath to carry pain. 

High reared the ploughshare, broken lay the wain, 

Idly the flax-wheel spun 
Unridered : starving lords were wasp and moth. 



A READING OF EARTH 335 



III 

Lean grassblades losing green on their bent flags, 

Sang chilly to themselves ; lone honey-bees 

Pursued the flowers that were not with dry bags ; 

Sole sound aloud the snap of sapless trees, 

More sharp than slingstones on hard breastplates hurled. 

Back to first chaos tumbled the stopped world, 

Careless to lure or please. 
A nature of gaunt ribs, an Earth of crags. 

IV 

No smile Demeter cast : the gloom she saw, 

Well draped her direful musing; for in gloom, 

In thicker gloom, deep down the cavern-maw, 

Her sweet had vanished ; liker unto whom, 

And whose pale place of habitation mute, 

She and all seemed where seasons, pledged for fruit 

Anciently, gaped for bloom : 
Where hand of man was as a plucked fowl's claw. 



The wrathful Queen descended on a vale, 

That ere the ravished hour for richness heaved. 

Iambe, maiden of the merry tale, 

Beside her eyed the once red-cheeked, green-leaved. 

It looked as if the Deluge had withdrawn. 

Pity caught at her throat; her jests were gone. 

More than for her who grieved, 
Rhp could for this waste home have piped the wail. 



336 A READING OF EARTH 



VI 

Iambe, her dear mountain-rivulet 

To waken laughter from cold stones, beheld 

A riven wheatfield cracking for the wet, 

And seed like infant's teeth, that never swelled, 

Apeep up flinty ridges, milkless round. 

Teeth of the giants marked she where thin ground 

Kocky in spikes rebelled 
Against the hand here slack as rotted net. 

VII 

The valley people up the ashen scoop 
She beckoned, aiming hopelessly to win 
Her Mistress in compassion of yon group 
So pinched and wizened ; with their aged grin, 
For lack of warmth to smile on mouths of woe, 
White as in chalk outlining little 

Dumb, from a falling chin ; 
Young, old, alike half-bent to make the hoop. 

VIII 

Their tongues of birds they wagged, weak-voiced as when 

Dark underwaters the recesses choke; 

With cluck and upper quiver of a hen 

In grasp, past pecking: cry before the croak. 

Eelentlessly their gold-haired Heaven, their fount 

Bountiful of old days, heard them recount 

This and that cruel stroke: 
Nor eye nor ear had she for piteous men. 



A READING OF EARTH 337 

IX 

A figure of black rock by sunbeams crowned 

Through stormclouds, where the volumed shades enfold 

An earth in awe before the claps resound 

And woods and dwellings are as billows rolled, 

The barren ISTourisher uninelted shed 

Death from the looks that wandered with the dead 

Out of the realms of gold, 
In famine for ner lost, her lost unfound. 



Iambe from her Mistress tripped; she raised 

The cattle-call above the moan of prayer; 

And slowly out of fields their fancy grazed, 

Among the droves, defiled a horse and mare: 

The wrecks of horse and mare : such ribs as view 

Seas that have struck brave ships ashore, while through 

Shoots the swift foamspit: bare 
They nodded, and Demeter on them gazed. 

XI 

Howbeit the season of the dancing blood, 

Forgot was horse of mare, yea, mare of horse : 

Eeversed, each head at either's flank, they stood. 

Whereat the Goddess, in a dim remorse, 

Laid hand on them, and smacked ; and her touch pricked. 

Neighing within, at either's flank they licked; 

Played on a moment's force 

At courtship, withering to the crazy nod. 

•22 



338 A HEADING OF EARTH 

XII 

The nod was that we gather for consent ; 
And mournfully amid the group a dame, 
Interpreting the thing in nature meant, 
Her hands held out like bearers of the flame, 
And nodded for the negative sideways. 
Keen at her Mistress glanced Iambe : rays 
From the Great Mother came: 
Her lips were opened wide ; the curse was rent. 

XIII 

She laughed : since our first harvesting heard none 
Like thunder of the song of heart : her face, 
The dreadful darkness, shook to mounted sun, 
And peal on peal across the hills held chase. 
She laughed herself to water ; laughed to fire ; 
Laughed the torrential laugh of dam and sire 

Full of the marrowy race. 
Her laughter, Gods ! was flesh on skeleton. 

XIV 

The valley people huddled, broke, afraid, 

Assured, and taking lightning in the veins, 

They puffed, they leaped, linked hands, together swayed, 

Unwitting happiness till golden rains 

Of tears in laughter, laughter weeping, smote 

Knowledge of milky mercy from that throat 

Pouring to heal their pains : 
And one bold youth set mouth at a shy maid. 



A HEADING OF EARTH 339 



XV 

Iambe clapped to see the kindly lusts 
Inspire the valley people, still on seas, 
Like poplar-tops relieved from stress of gusts, 
With rapture in their wonderment ; but these, 
Low homage being rendered, ran to plough, 
Fed by the laugh, as by the mother cow 

Calves at the teats they tease: 
Soon drove they through the yielding furrow-crusts. 

XVI 

Uprose the blade in green, the leaf in red, 

The tree of water and the tree of wood : 

And soon among the branches overhead 

Gave beauty juicy issue sweet for food. 

Laughter ! beauty plumped and love had birth. 

Laughter ! thou reviver of sick Earth ! 

Good for the spirit, good 
For body, thou ! to both art wine and bread ! 



EAETH AND A WEDDED WOMAN 



The shepherd, with his eye on hazy South, 

Has told of rain upon the fall of day. 

But promise is there none for Susan's drouth, 

That he will come, who keeps in dry delay. 

The freshest of the village three years gone, 

She hangs as the white field-rose hangs short-lived; 

And she and Earth are one 

In withering unrevived. 
Kain! the glad refresher of the grain! 
And welcome waterspouts, had we sweet rain! 

ii 

Ah, what is Marriage, says each pouting maid, 

When she who wedded with the soldier hides 

At home as good as widowed in the shade, 

A lighthouse to the girls that would be brides : 

Nor dares to give a lad an ogle, nor 

To dream of dancing, but must hang and moan 

Her husband in the war, 

And she to lie alone. 
Rain ! the glad refresher of the grain ! 
And welcome waterspouts, had we sweet rain! 



A HEADING OF EARTH 341 

III 

They have not known ; they are not in the stream ; 
Light as the flying seed-ball is their play, 
The silly maids ! and happy souls they seem ; 
Yet Grief would not change fates with such as they. 
They have not struck the roots which meet the fires 
Beneath, and bind us fast with Earth, to know 

The strength of her desires, 

The sternness of her woe. 
Kain! the glad refresher of the grain! 
And welcome waterspouts, had we sweet rain! 

IV 

Now, shepherd, see thy word, where without shower 
A borderless low blotting Westward spreads. 
The hall-clock holds the valley on the hour; 
Across an inner chamber thunder treads : 
The dead leaf trips, the tree-top swings, the floor 
Of dust whirls, dropping lumped : near thunder speaks, 
And drives the dames to door, 
Their kerchiefs flapped at cheeks. 
Rain ! the glad refresher of the grain ! 
And welcome waterspouts of blessed rain! 



Through night, with bedroom window wide for air, 
Lay Susan tranced to hear all heaven descend : 
And gurgling voices came of Earth, and rare, 
Past flowerful, breathings, deeper than life's end, 



342 A BEADING OF EARTH 

From her heaved breast of sacred common mould : 

Whereby this lone-laid wife was moved to feel 
Unworded things and old 
To her pained heart appeal. 

Rain! the glad refresher of the grain! 

And down in deluges of blessed rain! 



VI 

At morn she stood to live for ear and sight, 
Love sky or cloud, or rose or grasses drenched. 
A lureful devil, that in glow-worm light 
Set languor writhing all its folds, she quenched. 
But she would muse when neighbours praised her face, 
Her services, and staunchness to her mate : 
Knowing by some dim trace, 
The change might bear a date. 
Rain ! O the glad refresher of the grain ! 
Thrice beauteous is our sunshine after rain! 



MOTHEE TO BABE 



Fleck of sky you are, 
Dropped through branches dark, 

my little one, mine! 
Promise of tbe star, 
Outpour of the lark ; 

Beam and song divine. 

ii 

See this precious gift, 
Steeping in new birth 

All my being, for sign 
Earth to heaven can lift, 
Heaven descend on earth, 

Both in one be mine ! 

in 

Life in light you glass 
When you peep and coo, 

You, my little one, mine! 
Brooklet chirps to grass, 
Daisy looks in dew 

Up to dear sunshine. 



WOODLAND PEACE 

Sweet as Eden is the air, 

And Eden-sweet the ray. 
No Paradise is lost for them 
Who foot by branching root and stem, 
And lightly with the woodland share 

The change of night and day. 

Here all say, 
We serve her, even as I : 
We brood, we strive to sky, 
We gaze upon decay, 
We wot of life through death, 
How each feeds each we spy; 
And is a tangle round, 
Are patient; what is dumb, 
We question not, nor ask 
The silent to give sound, 
The hidden to unmask, 
The distant to draw near. 

And this the woodland saith : 
I know not hope or fear; 
I take whate'er may come ; 
I raise my head to aspects fair, 
From foul I turn away. 

Sweet as Eden is the air, 
And Eden-sweet the ray. 



THE QUESTION WHITHER 



When we have thrown off this old suit, 

So much in need of mending, 
To sink among the naked mute, 

Is that, think you, our ending? 
We follow many, more we lead, 

And you who sadly turf us, 
Believe not that all living seed 

Must flower above the surface. 



ii 



Sensation is a gracious gift, 

But were it cramped to station, 
The prayer to have it cast adrift, 

Would spout from all sensation. 
Enough if we have winked to sun, 

Have sped the plough a season ; 
There is a soul for labour done, 

Endureth fixed as reason. 



)46 A READING OF EARTH 

III 

Then let our trust be firm in Good, 

Though we be of the fasting; 
Our questions are a mortal brood, 

Our work is everlasting. 
We children of Beneficence 

Are in its being sharers; 
And Whither vainer sounds than Whence, 

For word with such wayfarers. 



OUTER AND INNER 



From twig to twig the spider weaves 

At noon his webbing fine. 
So near to mute the zephyrs flute 

That only leaflets dance. 
The sun draws out of hazel leaves 

A smell of woodland wine. 
I wake a swarm to sudden storm 

At any step's advance. 

ii 

Along my path is bugloss blue, 

The star with fruit in moss ; 
The foxgloves drop from throat to top 

A daily lesser bell. 
The blackest shadow, nurse of dew, 

Has orange skeins across ; 
And keenly red is one thin thread 

That flashing seems to swell. 

in 

My world I note ere fancy comes, 

Minutest hushed observe : 
What busy bits of motioned wits 

Through antlered mosswork strive. 



348 A READING OF EARTH 

But now so low the stillness hums, 
My springs of seeing swerve, 

For half a wink to thrill and think 
The woods with nymphs alive. 

IV 

I neighbour the invisible 

So close that my consent 
Is only asked for spirits masked 

To leap from trees and flowers. 
And this because with them I dwell 

In thought, while calmly bent 
To read the lines dear Earth designs 

Shall speak her life on ours. 



Accept, she says ; it is not hard 

In woods ; but she in towns 
Repeats, accept; and have we wept, 

And have we quailed with fears, 
Or shrunk with horrors, sure reward 

We have whom knowledge crowns ; 
Who see in mould the rose unfold, 

The soul through blood and tears. 



NATURE AND LIFE 



Leave the uproar : at a leap 
Thou shalt strike a woodland path, 
Enter silence, not of sleep, 
Under shadows, not of wrath; 
Breath which is the spirit's bath, 
In the old Beginnings find, 
And endow them with a mind, 
Seed for seedling, swathe for swathe. 
That gives Nature to us, this 
Give we her, and so we kiss. 



11 



Fruitful is it so : but hear 
How within the shell thou art, 
Music sounds ; nor other near 
Can to such a tremor start. 
Of the waves our life is part; 
They our running harvests bear: 
Back to them for manful air, 
Laden with the woodland's heart! 
That gives Battle to us, this 
Give we it, and good the kiss. 



DIRGE IN WOODS 

A wind sways the pines, 

And below 
Not a breath of wild air; 
Still as the mosses that glow 
On the flooring and over the lines 
Of the roots here and there. 
The pine-tree drops its dead; 
They are quiet, as under the sea. 
Overhead, overhead 
Rushes life in a race, 
As the clouds the clouds chase; 

And we go, 
And we drop like the fruits of the tree, 

Even we, 

Even so. 



A FAITH ON TRIAL 

On the morning of May, 

Ere the children had entered my gate 

With their wreaths and mechanical lay, 

A metal ding-dong of the date! 

I mounted our hill, bearing heart. 

That had little of life save its weight: 

The crowned Shadow poising dart 

Hung over her: she, my own, 

My good companion, mate, 

Pulse of me: she who had shown 

Fortitude quiet as Earth's 

At the shedding of leaves. And around 

The sky was in garlands of cloud, 

Winning scents from unnumbered new births, 

Pointed buds, where the woods were browned 

By a mouldered beechen shroud; 
Or over our meads of the vale, 
Such an answer to sun as he, 
Brave in his gold; to a sound, 
None sweeter, of woods napping sail, 
With the first full flood of our year, 
For their voyage on lustreful sea: 
Unto what curtained haven in chief, 
Will be writ in the book of the sere. 
But surely the crew are we, 



352 A READING OF EARTH 

Eager or stamped or bowed; 

Counted thinner at fall of the leaf. 

Grief heard them, and passed like a bier. 

Due Summerward, lo, they were set, 

In volumes of foliage proud, 

On the heave of their favouring tides, 

And their song broadened out to the cheer 

When a neck of the ramping surf 

Rattles thunder a boat overrides. 

All smiles ran the highways wet; 

The worm drew its links from the turf; 

The bird of felicity loud, 

Spun high, and a South wind blew. 

Weak out of sheath downy leaves 

Of the beech quivered lucid as dew, 

Their radiance asking, who grieves; 

For nought of a sorrow they knew : 

No space to the dread wrestle vowed, 

No chamber in shadow of night. 

At times as the steadier breeze 

Flutter-huddled their twigs to a crowd, 

The beam of them wafted my sight 

To league-long sun upon seas : 

The golden path we had crossed 

Many years, till her birth land swung 

Recovered to vision from lost, 

A light in her filial glance. 

And sweet was her voice with the tongue, 

The speechful tongue of her France, 

Soon at ripple about us, like rills 

Ever busy with little : away 



A READING OF EARTH 353 

Through her Normandy, down where the mills 

Dot at lengths a rivercourse, grey 

As its bordering poplars bent 

To gusts off the plains above. 

Old stone chateau and farms, 

Home of her birth and her love ! 

On the thread of the pasture you trace, 

By the river, their milk, for miles, 

Spotted once with the English tent, 

In days of the tocsin's alarms, 

To tower of the tallest of piles, 

The country's surveyor breast-high. 

Home of her birth and her love ! 

Home of a diligent race; 

Thrifty, deft-handed to ply 

Shuttle or needle, and woo 

Sun to the roots of the pear 

Frogging each mud-walled cot. 

The elders had known her in arms. 

There plucked we the bluet, her hue 

Of the deeper forget-me-not ; 

Well wedding her ripe-wheat hair. 

I saw, unsighting : her heart 
I saw, and the home of her love 
There printed , mournfully rent : 
Her ebbing adieu, her adieu, 
And the stride of the Shadow athwart. 
For one of our Autumns there ! . . . 
Straight as the flight of a dove 
We went, swift winging we went. 

23 



354 A READING OF EAETH 

We trod solid ground, we breathed air, 

The heavens were unbroken. Break they, 

The word of the world is adieu : 

Her word : and the torrents are round, 

The jawed wolf-waters of prey. 

We stand upon isles, who stand : 

A Shadow before us, and back, 

A phantom the habited land. 

We may cry to the Sunderer, spare 

That dearest! he loosens his pack. 

Arrows we breathe, not air. 

The memories tenderly bound 

To us are a drifting crew, 

Amid grey-gapped waters for ground. 

Alone do we stand, each one, 

Till rootless as they we strew 

Those deeps of the corse-like stare 

At a foreign and stony sun. 

Eyes had I but for the scene 

Of my circle, what neighbourly grew. 

If haply no finger lay out 

To the figures of days that had been, 

I gathered my herb, and endured; 

My old cloak wrapped me about. 

Unfooted was ground-ivy blue, 

Whose rustic shrewd odour allured 

In Spring's fresh of morning: unseen 

Her favourite wood-sorrel bell 

As yet, though the leaves' green floor 

Awaited their flower, that would tell 



A READING OF EARTH 355 

Of a red-veined moist yestreen, 

With its droop and the hues it wore, 

When we two stood overnight 

One, in the dark van -glow 

On our hill-top, seeing beneath, 

Our household's twinkle of light 

Through spruce-boughs, gem of a wreath. 

Budding, the service-tree, white 

Almost as whitebeam, threw, 

From the under of leaf upright, 

Flecks like a showering snow 

On the flame-shaped junipers green, 

On the sombre mounds of the yew. 

Like silvery tapers bright 

By a solemn cathedral screen, 

They glistened to closer view. 

Turf for a rooks' revel striped, 

Pleased those devourers astute. 

Chorister blackbird and thrush 

Together or alternate piped ; 

A free-hearted harmony large, 

With meaning for man, for brute, 

When the primitive forces are brimmed. 

Like featherings hither and yon 

Of aery tree-twigs over marge, 

To the comb of the winds, untrimmed, 

Their measure is found in the vast. 

Grief heard them, and stepped her way on. 

She has but a narrow embrace. 

Distrustful of hearing she passed. 



356 A BEADING OF EARTH 

They piped her young Earth's Bacchic rout; 
The race, and the prize of the race ; 
Earth's lustihead pressing to sprout. 

But sight holds a soberer space. 

Colourless dogwood low, 

Curled up a twisted root, 

Nigh yellow-green mosses, to flush 

Redder than sun upon rocks, 

When the creeper clematis-shoot 

Shall climb, cap his branches, and show, 

Beside veteran green of the box, 

At close of the year's maple blush, 

A bleeding greybeard is he, 

Now hale in the leafage lush. 

Our parasites paint us. Hard by, 

A wet yew-trunk flashed the peel 

Of our naked forefathers in fight; 

With stains of the fray sweating free; 

And him came no parasite nigh: 

Firm on the hard knotted knee, 

He stood in the crown of his dun ; 

Earth's toughest to stay her wheel : 

Under whom the full day is night; 

Whom the century-tempests call son, 

Having striven to rend him in vain. 

I walked to observe, not to feel, 
Not to fancy, if simple of eye 
One may be among images reaped 
For a shift of the glance, as grain : 



A READING OE EARTH 357 

Profitless froth you espy 

Ashore after billows have leaped. 

I fled nothing, nothing pursued: 

The changeful visible face 

Of our Mother I sought for my food; 

Crumbs by the way to sustain. 

Her sentence 1 knew past grace. 

Myself I had lost of us twain, 

Once bound in mirroring thought. 

She had flung me to dust in her wake ; 

And I, as your convict drags 

His chain, by the scourge untaught, 

Bore life for a goad, without aim. 

I champed the sensations that make 

Of a ruffled philosophy rags. 

For them was no meaning too blunt, 

Nor aspect too cutting of steel. 

This Earth of the beautiful breasts, 

Shining up in all colours aflame, 

To them had visage of hags : 

A Mother of aches and jests : 

Soulless, heading a hunt 

Aimless except for the meal. 

Hope, with the star on her front; 

Fear, with an eye in the heel; 

Our links to a Mother of grace; 

They were dead on the nerve , and dead 

For the nature divided in three; 

Gone out of heart, out of brain, 

Out of soul : I had in their place 

The calm of an empty room. 



358 A HEADING OF EARTH 

We were joined but by that thin thread, 

My disciplined habit to see. 

And those conjure images, those, 

The puppets of loss or gain; 

Not he who is bare to his doom ; 

For whom never semblance plays 

To bewitch, overcloud, illume. 

The dusty mote-images rose; 

Sheer film of the surface awag : 

They sank as they rose; their pain 

Declaring them mine of old days. 

Now gazed I where, sole upon gloom, 

As flower-bush in sun-specked crag, 

Up the spine of the double combe 

With yew-boughs heavily cloaked, 

A young apparition shone : 

Known, yet wonderful, white 

Surpassingly ; doubtfully known, 

For it struck as the birth of Light : 

Even Day from the dark unyoked. 

It waved like a pilgrim flag 

O'er processional penitents flown 

When of old they broke rounding yon spine : 

the pure wild-cherry in bloom ! 

For their Eastward march to the shrine 

Of the footsore far-eyed Faith, 

Was banner so brave, so fair, 

So quick with celestial sign 

Of victorious rays over death? 

For a conquest of coward despair; — 



A READING OF EARTH 

Division of soul from wits, 

And these made rulers ; — full sure, 

More starlike never did shine 

To illumine the sinister field 

Where our life's old night-bird flits. 

I knew it : with her, my own, 

Had hailed it pure of the pure; 

Our beacon yearly : but strange 

When it strikes to within is the known; 

Richer than newness revealed. 

There was needed darkness like mine. 

Its beauty to vividness blown, 

Drew the life in me forward, chased, 

From aloft on a pinnacle's range, 

That hindward spidery line, 

The length of the ways I had paced, 

A footfarer out of the dawn, 

To Youth's wild forest, where sprang, 

For the morning of May long gone, 

The forest's white virgin; she 

Seen yonder; and sheltered me, sang; 

She in me, I in her; what songs 

The fawn-eared wood-hollows revive 

To pour forth their tune-footed throngs; 

Inspire to the dreaming of good 

Illimitable to come : 

She, the white wild cherry, a tree, 

Earth-rooted, tangibly wood, 

Yet a presence throbbing alive; 

Nor she in our language dumb : 

A spirit born of a tree ; 



359 



360 A READING OF EARTH 

Because earth-rooted alive : 

Huntress of things worth pursuit 

Of souls; in our naming, dreams. 

And each unto other was lute, 

By fits quick as breezy gleams. 

My quiver of aims and desires 

Had colour that she would have owned; 

And if by humaner fires 

Hued later, these held her enthroned : 

My crescent of Earth ; my blood 

At the silvery early stir; 

Hour of the thrill of the bud 

About to burst, and by her 

Directed, attuned, englobed: 

My Goddess, the chaste, not chill; 

Choir over choir white-robed; 

White-bosomed fold within fold : 

For so could I dream, breast-bare, 

In my time of blooming; dream still 

Through the maze, the mesh, and the wreck, 

Despite, since manhood was bold, 

The yoke of the flesh on my neck. 

She beckoned, I gazed, unaware 

How a shaft of the blossoming tree 

Was shot from the yew-wood's core. 

I stood to the touch of a key 

Turned in a fast-shut door. 

They rounded my garden, content, 
The small fry, clutching their fee, 
Their fruit of the wreath and the pole; 
And, chatter, hop, skip, they were sent, 



A READING OF EARTH 361 

In a buzz of young company glee, 
Their natural music, swift shoal 
To the next easy shedders of pence. 
Why not? for they had me in tune 
With the hungers of my kind. 

Do readings of earth draw thence, 

Then a concord deeper than cries 

Of the Whither whose echo is Whence, 

To jar unanswered, shall rise 

As a fountain-jet in the mind 

Bowed dark o'er the falling and strewn. 

Unwitting where it might lead, 
How it came, for the anguish to cease, 
And the Questions that sow not nor spin, 
This wisdom, rough-written, and black, 
As of veins that from venom bleed, 
I had with the peace within; 
Or patience, mortal of peace, 
Compressing the surgent strife 
In a heart laid open, not mailed, 
To the last blank hour of the rack, 
When struck the dividing knife : 
When the hand that never had failed 
In its pressure to mine hung slack. 

But this in myself did I know, 
Not needing a studious brow, 
Or trust in a governing star, 
While my ears held the jangled shout 



362 A READING OF EABTH 

The children were lifting afar: 
That natures at interflow 
With all of their past and the now, 
Are chords to the Nature without, 
Orbs to the greater whole : 
First then, nor utterly then 
Till our lord of sensations at war, 
The rebel, the heart, yields place 
To brain, each prompting the soul. 
Thus our dear Earth we embrace 
For the milk, her strength to men. 

And crave we her medical herb, 

We have but to see and hear, 

Though pierced by the cruel acerb, 

The troops of the memories armed 

Hostile to strike at the nest 

That nourished and flew them warmed. 

Not she gives the tear for the tear. 

Weep, bleed, rave, writhe, be distraught, 

She is moveless. Not of her breast 

Are the symbols we conjure when Fear 

Takes leaven of Hope. I caught, 

With Death in me shrinking from Death, 

As cold from cold, for a sign 

Of the life beyond ashes : I cast, 

Believing the vision divine, 

Wings of that dream of my Youth 

To the spirit beloved : 't was unglassed 

On her breast, in her depths austere : 

A flash through the mist, mere breath, 



A READING OF EARTH 

Breath on a buckler of steel. 

For the flesh in revolt at her laws, 

Neither song nor smile in ruth, 

Nor promise of things to reveal, 

Has she, nor a word she saith : 

We are asking her wheels to pause. 

Well knows she the cry of unfaith. 

If we strain to the farther shore, 

We are catching at comfort near. 

Assurances, symbols, saws, 

Eevelations in Legends, light 

To eyes rolling darkness, these 

Desired of the flesh in affright, 

For the which it will swear to adore, 

She yields not for prayers at her knees; 

The woolly beast bleating will shear. 

These are our sensual dreams ; 

Of the yearning to touch, to feel 

The dark Impalpable sure, 

And have the Unveiled appear; 

Whereon ever black she beams, 

Doth of her terrible deal, 

She who dotes over ripeness at play, 

Eosiness fondles and feels, 

Guides it with shepherding crook, 

To her sports and her pastures alway. 

Not she gives the tear for the tear: 

Harsh wisdom gives Earth, no more; 

In one the spur and the curb : 

An answer to thoughts or deeds; 

To the Legends an alien look ; 



363 



364 A READING OF EARTH 

To the Questions a figure of clay. 
Yet we have but to see and hear, 
Crave we her medical herb. 
For the road to her soul is the Eeal: 
The root of the growth of man : 
And the senses must traverse it fresh 
With a love that no scourge shall abate, 
To reach the lone heights where we scan 
In the mind's rarer vision this flesh; 
In the charge of the Mother our fate ; 
Her law as the one common weal. 

We, whom the view benumbs, 

We, quivering upward, each hour 

Know battle in air and in ground 

For the breath that goes as it comes, 

For the choice between sweet and sour, 

For the smallest grain of our worth: 

And he who the reckoning sums, 

Finds nought in his hand save Earth. 

Of Earth are we stripped or crowned. 

The fleeting Present we crave, 

Barter our best to wed, 

In hope of a cushioned bower, 

What is it but Future and Past 

Like wind and tide at a wave! 

Idea of the senses, bred 

For the senses to snap and devour: 

Thin as the shell of a sound 

In delivery, withered in light. 

Cry we for permanence fast, 



A HEADING OF EARTH 

Permanence hangs by the grave; 

Sits on the grave green-grassed, 

On the roll of the heaved grave-mound. 

By Death, as by Life, are we fed: 

The two are one spring; our bond 

With the numbers ; with whom to unite 

Here feathers wings for beyond: 

Only they can waft us in flight. 

For they are Reality's flower. 

Of them, and the contact with them, 

Issues Earth's dearest daughter, the firm 

In footing, the stately of stem; 

Unshaken though elements lour; 

A warrior heart unquelled ; 

Mirror of Earth, and guide 

To the Holies from sense withheld: 

Reason, man's germinant fruit. 

She wrestles with our old worm 

Self in the narrow and wide : 

Relentless quencher of lies, 

With laughter she pierces the brute; 

And hear we her laughter peal, 

'T is Light in us dancing to scour 

The loathed recess of his dens ; 

Scatter his monstrous bed, 

And hound him to harrow and plough. 

She is the world's one prize; 

Our champion, rightfully head; 

The vessel whose piloted prow, 

Though Folly froth round, hiss and hoot, 

Leaves legible print at the keel. 



365 



366 A HEADING OF EARTH 

Nor least is the service she does, 
That service to her may cleanse 
The well of the Sorrows iu us ; 
For a common delight will drain 
The rank individual fens 
Of a wound refusing to heal 
While the old worm slavers its root. 

I bowed as a leaf in rain ; 

As a tree when the leaf is shed 

To winds in the season at wane : 

And when from my soul I said, 

May the worm be trampled : smite, 

Sacred Reality ! power 

Filled me to front it aright. 

I had come of my faith's ordeal. 

It is not to stand on a tower 

And see the flat universe reel; 

Our mortal sublimities drop 

Like raiment by glisterlings worn, 

At a sweep of the scythe for the crop. 

Wisdom is won of its fight, 

The combat incessant; and dries 

To mummywrap perching a height. 

It chews the contemplative cud 

In peril of isolate scorn, 

Unfed of the onward flood. 

Nor view we a different morn 

If we gaze with the deeper sight, 

With the deeper thought forewise : 



A READING OF EARTH 367 

The world is the same, seen through; 

The features of men are the same. 

But let their historian new, 

In the language of nakedness write, 

Rejoice we to know not shame, 

Not a dread, not a doubt: to have done 

With the tortures of thought in the throes, 

Our animal tangle, and grass 

Very sap of the vital in this : 

That from flesh unto spirit man grows 

Even here on the sod under sun : 

That she of the wanton's kiss 

Broken through with the bite of an asp, 

Is Mother of simple truth, 

Relentless quencher of lies; 

Eternal in thought; discerned 

In thought mid-ferry between 

The Life and the Death, which are one, 

As our breath in and out, joy or teen. 

She gives the rich vision to youth, 

If we will, of her prompting wise; 

Or men by the lash made lean, 

Who in harness the mind subserve, 

Their title to read her have earned; 

Having mastered sensation — insane 

At a stroke of the terrified nerve; 

And out of the sensual hive, 

Grown to the flower of brain ; 

To know her a thing alive, 

Whose aspects mutably swerve, 

Whose laws immutably reign. 



368 A READING OF EARTH 

Our sentencer, clother in mist, 

Her morn bends breast to her noon, 

Noon to the hour dark-dyed, 

If we will, of her promptings wise : 

Her light is our own if we list. 

The Legends that sweep her aside, 

Crying loud for an opiate boon, 

To comfort the human want, 

From the bosom of magical skies, 

She smiles on, marking their source: 

They read her with infant eyes. 

Good ships of morality they, 

For our crude developing force; 

Granite the thought to stay, 

That she is a thing alive 

To the living, the falling and strewn. 

But the Questions, the broods that haunt 

Sensation insurgent, may drive, 

The way of the channelling mole, 

Head in a ground-vault gaunt 

As your telescope's skeleton moon. 

Barren comfort to these will she dolej 

Dead is her face to their cries. 

Intelligence pushing to taste, 

A lesson from beasts might heed. 

They scatter a voice in the waste, 

Where any dry swish of a reed 

By grey-glassy water replies. 

* They see not above or below ; 
' Farthest are they from my soul/ 



A READING OF EAIITH 369 

Earth whispers : ' they scarce have the thirst, 

' Except to unriddle a rune ; 

' And I spin none ; only show, 

1 Would humanity soar from its worst, 

1 Winged above darkness and dole, 

' How flesh unto spirit must grow. 

1 Spirit raves not for a goal. 

1 Shapes in man's likeness hewn, 

' Desires not; neither desires 

' The Sleep or the Glory : it trusts ; 

' Uses my gifts, yet aspires; 

' Dreams of a higher than it. 

4 The dream is an atmosphere ; 

c A scale still ascending to knit 

* The clear to the loftier Clear. 

* 'T is Reason herself, tiptoe 

* At the ultimate bound of her wit, 
' On the verges of Night and Day. 
' But is it a dream of the lusts, 

' To my dustiest 'tis decreed; 

1 And them that so shuffle astray, 

4 1 touch with no key of gold 

' For the wealth of the secret nook ; 

' Though I dote over ripeness at play, 

' Rosiness fondle and feed, 

' Guide it with shepherding crook 

' To my sports and my pastures alway. 

' The key will shriek in the lock, 

' The door will rustily hinge, 

1 Will open on features of mould, 

1 To vanish corrupt at a glimpse, 

24 



370 



A HEADING OE EARTH 



' And mock as the wild echoes mock, 

' Soulless in mimic, doth Greed 

' Or the passion for fruitage tinge 

' That dream, for your parricide imps 

' To wing through the body of Time, 

c Yourselves in slaying him slay. 

' Much are you shots of your prime , 

' You men of the act and the dream : 

' And please you to fatten a weed 

' That perishes, pledged to decay, 

' 'T is dearth in your season of need, 

1 Down the slopes of the shoreward way; — 

' Nigh on the misty stream, 

' Where Ferryman under his hood, 

1 With a call to be ready to pay 

' The small coin, whitens red blood. 

' But the young ethereal seed 

' Shall bring you the bread no buyer 

' Can have for his craving supreme; 

' To my quenchless quick shall speed 

' The soul at her wrestle rude 

' With devil, with angel more dire ; 

' With the flesh, with the Fates, enringed. 

' The dream of the blossom of Good, 

' Is your banner of battle unrolled 

' In its waver and current and curve 

* (Choir over choir white-winged, 

' White-bosomed fold within fold) : 

* Hopeful of victory most 

' When hard is the task to sustain 
1 Assaults of the fearful sense 



A READING OF EARTH 371 

' At a mind in desolate mood 

' With the Whither, whose echo is Whence; 

' And humanity's clamour, lost, lost; 

' And its clasp of the staves that snap ; 

' And evil abroad, as a main 

' Uproarious, bursting its dyke. 

1 For back do you look, and lo, 

' Forward the harvest of grain! — 

' Numbers in council, awake 

' To love more than things of my lap, 

' Love me; and to let the types break, 

' Men be grass, rocks rivers, all flow ; 

' All save the dream sink alike 

' To the source of my vital in sap: 

' Their battle, their loss, their ache, 

'For my pledge of vitality know. 

' The dream is the thought in the ghost; 

* The thought sent flying for food; 
1 Eyeless, but sprung of an aim 

' Supernal of Reason, to find 

' The great Over-Reason we name 

' Beneficence : mind seeking Mind. 

4 Dream of the blossom of Good, 

' In its waver and current and curve, 

' With the hopes of my offspring enscrolled! 

1 Soon to be seen of a host 

' The flag of the Master I serve ! 

' And life in them doubled on Life, 

' As flame upon flame, to behold, 

' High over Time-tumbled sea, 

• The bliss of his headship of strife, 
' Him through handmaiden me.' 



CHANGE IN BECUBBENCE 



I stood at the gate of the cot 

Where my darling, with side-glance demure, 

Would spy, on her trim garden-plot, 

The busy wild things chase and lure. 

For these with their ways were her feast 

They had surety no enemy lurked. 

Their deftest of tricks to their least, 

She gathered in watch as she worked. 



ii 



When berries were red on her ash, 

The blackbird would rifle them rough, 

Till the ground underneath looked a gash, 

And her rogue grew the round of a chough. 

The squirrel cocked ear o'er his hoop, 

Up the spruce, quick as eye, trailing brush. 

She knew any tit of the troop 

All as well as the snail-tapping thrush. 



A READING OF EARTH 373 



III 

I gazed : 't was the scene of the frame, 
With the face, the dear life for me, fled. 
No window a lute to my name, 
No watcher there plying the thread. 
But the blackbird hung pecking at will; 
The squirrel from cone hopped to cone; 
The thrush had a snail in his bill, 
And tap-tapped the shell hard on a stone. 



HYMN TO COLOUR 



With Life and Death I walked when Love appeared, 
And made them on each side a shadow seem. 
Through wooded vales the land of dawn we neared, 
Where down smooth rapids whirls the helmless dream 
To fall on daylight; and night puts away 
Her darker veil for grey. 

ii 

In that grey veil green grassblades brushed we by; 
We came where woods breathed sharp, and overhead 
Rocks raised clear horns on a transforming sky : 
Around, save for those shapes, with him who led 
And linked them, desert varied by no sign 
Of other life than mine. 



in 

By this the dark-winged planet, raying wide, 
From the mild pearl-glow to the rose upborne, 
Drew in his fires, less faint than far descried, 
Pure-fronted on a stronger wave of morn : 
And those two shapes the splendour interweaved, 
Hung web-like, sank and heaved. 



A READING OF EARTH 375 



IV 



Love took my hand when hidden stood the sun 
To fling his robe on shoulder-heights of snow. 
Then said: There lie they, Life and Death in one. 
Whichever is, the other is : but know, 
It is thy craving self that thou dost see, 
Not in them seeing me. 



Shall man into the mystery of breath, 
From his quick beating pulse a pathway spy? 
Or learn the secret of the shrouded death, 
By lifting up the lid of a white eye? 
Cleave thou thy way with fathering desire 
Of fire to reach to fire. 



VI 



Look now where Colour, the soul's bridegroom, makes 
The house of heaven splendid for the bride. 
To him as leaps a fountain she awakes, 
In knotting arms, yet boundless : him beside, 
She holds the flower to heaven, and by his power 
Brings heaven to the flower. 



376 A BEADING OF EAKTH 



VII 



He gives her homeliness in desert air, 
And sovereignty in spaciousness ; he leads 
Through widening chambers of surprise to where 
Throbs rapture near an end that aye recedes, 
Because his touch is infinite and lends 
A yonder to all ends. 



VIII 



Death begs of Life his blush ; Life Death persuades 
To keep long day with his caresses graced. 
He is the heart of light, the wing of shades, 
The crown of beauty : never soul embraced 
Of him can harbour unf aith ; soul of him 
Possessed walks never dim. 



IX 



Love eyed his rosy memories: he sang: 
bloom of dawn, breathed up from the gold sheaf 
Held springing beneath Orient! that dost hang 
The space of dewdrops running over leaf; 
Thy fleetingness is bigger in the ghost 
Than Time with all his host! 



A BEADING OF EARTH 377 



Of thee to say behold, has said adieu . 
But love remembers how the sky was green, 
And how the grasses glimmered lightest blue ; 
How saint-like grey took fervour: how the screen 
Of cloud grew violet ; how thy moment came 
Between a blush and flame. 



XI 



Love saw the emissary eglantine 
Break wave round thy white feet above the gloom; 
Lay finger on thy star; thy raiment line 
With cherub wing and limb; wed thy soft bloom, 
Gold-quivering like sunrays in thistle-down, 
Earth under rolling brown. 



XII 



They do not look through love to look on thee, 
Grave heavenliness ! nor know they joy of sight, 
Who deem the wave of rapt desire must be 
Its wrecking and last issue of delight. 
Dead seasons quicken in one petal-spot 
Of colour unforgot. 



378 A READING OF EARTH 



XIII 

This way have men come out of brutishness 
To spell the letters of the sky and read 
A reflex upon earth else meaningless. 
With thee, O fount of the Untimed! to lead; 
Drink they of thee, thee eyeing, they unaged 
Shall on through brave wars waged. 



XIV 

More gardens will they win than any lost; 
The vile plucked out of them, the unlovely slain. 
Not forfeiting the beast with which they are crossed, 
To stature of the Gods will they attain. 
They shall uplift their Earth to meet her Lord, 
Themselves the attuning chord ! 



xv 

The song had ceased; my vision with the song. 
Then of those Shadows, which one made descent 
Beside me I knew not : but Life ere long 
Came on me in the public ways and bent 
Eyes deeper than of old : Death met I too, 
And saw the dawn glow through. 



MEDITATION UNDER STARS 

What links are ours with orbs that are 

So resolutely far: 
The solitary asks, and they 
Give radiance as from a shield: 

Still at the death of day, 

The seen, the unrevealed. 

Implacable they shine 
To us who would of Life obtain 
An answer for the life we strain, 

To nourish with one sign. 
Nor can imagination throw 
The penetrative shaft : we pass 
The breath of thought, who would divine 

If haply they may grow 
As Earth; have our desire to know; 
If life comes there to grain from grass, 
And flowers like ours of toil and pain; 

Has passion to beat bar, 

Win space from cleaving brain; 

The mystic link attain, 

Whereby star holds on star. 

Those visible immortals beam 

Allurement to the dream : 
Ireful at human hungers brook 

No question in the look. 



380 A READING OF EARTH 

For ever virgin to our sense, 

Remote they wane to gaze intense: 
Prolong it, and in ruthlessness they smite 
The beating heart behind the ball of sight : 

Till we conceive their heavens hoar, 

Those lights they raise but sparkles frore, 
And Earth, our blood-warm Earth , a shuddering prey 
To that frigidity of brainless ray. 



Yet space is given for breath of thought 
Beyond our bounds when musing: more 
When to that musing love is brought, 
And love is asked of love's wherefore. 
'Tis Earth's, her gift} else have we nought: 
Her gift, her secret, here our tie. 
And not with her and yonder sky? 
Bethink you : were it Earth alone 
Breeds love, would not her region be 

The sole delight and throne 

Of generous Deity? 



To deeper than this ball of sight 
Appeal the lustrous people of the night. 
Fronting yon shoreless, sown with fiery sails, 

It is our ravenous that quails, 
Flesh by its craven thirsts and fears distraught. 
The spirit leaps alight, 
Doubts not in them is he, 
The binder of his sheaves, the same, the right: 
Of magnitude to magnitude is wrought, 



A READING OF EAETH 381 

To feel it large of the great life they hold : 
In them to come, or vaster iutervolved, 
The issues known in us, our unsolved solved : 
That there with toil Life climbs the self-same Tree, 
Whose roots enrichment have from ripeness dropped. 
So may we read and little find them cold: 
Let it but be the lord of Mind to guide 
Our eyes; no branch of Season's growing lopped; 
Nor dreaming on a dream; but fortified 
By day to penetrate black midnight; see, 
Hear, feel, outside the senses ; even that we, 
The specks of dust upon a mound of mould, 
We who reflect those rays, though low our place, 
To them are lastingly allied. 

So may we read, and little find them cold: 

Not frosty lamps illumining dead space, 

Not distant aliens, not senseless Powers. 

The fire is in them whereof we are born ; 

The music of their motion may be ours. 

Spirit shall deem them beckoning Earth and voiced 

Sisterly to her, in her beams rejoiced. 

Of love, the grand impulsion, we behold 

The love that lends her grace 

Among the starry fold. 
Then at new flood of customary morn, 

Look at her through her showers, 

Her mists, her streaming gold, 
A wonder edges the familiar face : 
She wears no more that robe of printed hours ; 
Half strange seems Earth, and sweeter than her flowers. 



WOODMAN AND ECHO 

Close Echo hears the woodman's axe, 
To double on it, as in glee, 
With clap of hands, and little lacks 
Of meaning in her repartee. 

For all shall fall, 

As one has done, 

The tree of me, 

Of thee the tree ; 

And unto all 

The fate we wait 

Reveals the wheels 

Whereon we run : 

We tower to flower, 

We spread the shade, 

We drop for crop, 

At length are laid; 

Are rolled in mould, 

From chop and lop : 
And are we thick in woodland tracks, 
Or tempting of our stature we, 
The end is one, we do but wax 
For service over land and sea. 

So, strike ! the like 

Shall thus of us, 
My brawny woodman, claim the tax. 



A BEADING OF EARTH 383 

"Nor foe thy blow, 

Though wood be good, 
And shriekingly the timber cracks : 

The ground we crowned 

Shall speed the seed 
Of younger into swelling sacks. 

For use he hews, 

To make awake 
The spirit of what stuff we be : 

Our earth of mirth 

And tears he clears 
For braver, let our minds agree; 

And then will men 

Within them win 
And Echo clapping harmony. 



THE WISDOM OF ELD 

We spend our lives in learning pilotage, 

And grow good steersmen when the vessel 's crank f 

Gap-toothed he spake and with a tottering shank 

Sidled to gain the sunny bench of Age. 

It is the sentence which completes that stage; 

A testament of wisdom reading blank. 

The seniors of the race, on their last plank, 

Pass mumbling it as nature's final page. 

These, bent by such experience, are the band 

Who captain young enthusiasts to maintain 

What things we view, and Earth's decree withstand, 

Lest dreaded Change, long dammed by dull decay, 

Should bring the world a vessel steered by brain, 

And ancients musical at close of day. 



EAETH'S PREFERENCE 

Earth loves her young : a preference manifest : 
She prompts them to her fruits and flower-beds; 
Their beauty with her choicest interthreads, 
And makes her revel of their merry zest. 
As in our East much were it in our West, 
If men had risen to do the work of heads. 
Her gabbling grey she eyes askant, nor treads 
The ways they walk; by what they speak oppressed. 
How wrought they in their zenith? 'T is not writ; 
Not all; yet she by one sure sign can read: 
Have they but held her laws and nature dear, 
They mouth no sentence of inverted wit. 
More prizes she her beasts than this high breed 
Wry in the shape she wastes her milk to rear. 



SOCIETY 

Historic be the survey of our kind, 
And how their brave Society took shape. 
Lion, wolf, vulture, fox, jackal and ape, 
The strong of limb, the keen of nose, we find, 
Who, with some jars in harmony, combined, 
Their primal instincts taming, to escape 
The brawl indecent, and hot passions drape. 
Convenience pricked conscience, that the mind. 
Thus entered they the field of milder beasts, 
Which in some sort of civil order graze, 
And do half-homage to the God of Laws. 
But are they still for their old ravenous feasts, 
Earth gives the edifice they build no base : 
They spring another flood of fangs and claws. 



WINTER HEAVENS 

Sharp is the night, but stars with frost alive 

Leap off the rim of earth across the dome. 

It is a night to make the heavens our home 

More than the nest whereto apace we strive. 

Lengths down our road each fir-tree seems a hive, 

It swarms outrushing from the golden comb. 

They waken waves of thoughts that burst to foam i 

The living throb in me, the dead revive. 

Yon mantle clothes us : there, past mortal breath, 

Life glistens on the river of the death. 

It folds us, flesh and dust; and have we knelt, 

Or never knelt, or eyed as kine the springs 

Of radiance, the radiance enrings : 

And this is the soul's haven to have felt. 



WIND ON THE LYRE 

That was the chirp of Ariel 
You heard, as overhead it flew, 
The farther going more to dwell, 
And wing our green to wed our blue; 
But whether note of joy or knell, 
Not his own Father-singer knew; 
Nor yet can any mortal tell, 
Save only how it shivers through; 
The breast of us a sounded shell, 
The blood of us a lighted dew. 



THE YOUTHFUL QUEST 

His Lady queen of woods to meet, 
He wanders day and night: 

The leaves have whisperings discreet, 
The mossy ways invite. 

Across a lustrous ring of space, 
By covert hoods and caves, 

Is promise of her secret face 
In film that onward waves. 

For darkness is the light astrain, 
Astrain for light the dark. 

A grey moth down a larches' lane 
Unwinds a ghostly spark. 

Her lamp he sees, and young desire 
Is fed while cloaked she flies. 

She quivers shot of violet fire 
To ash at look of eyes. 



THE EMPTY PUESE 

A Sermon to our Later Prodigal Son 

Thou, run to the dry on this wayside bank, 
Too plainly of all the propellers bereft ! 

Quenched youth, and is that thy purse ? 
Even such limp slough as the snake has left 
Slack to the gale upon spikes of whin, 
For cast-off coat of a life gone blank 
In its frame of a grin at the seeker, is thine ; 

And thine to crave and to curse 

The sweet thing once within. 
Accuse him : some devil committed the theft, 

Which leaves of the portly a skin, 

No more; of the weighty a whine. 

Pursue him : and first, to be sure of his track, 
Over devious ways that have led to this, 

In the stream's consecutive line, 

Let memory lead thee back 
To where waves Morning her fleur-de-lys, 
Unfmshed at the front of the roseate door 
Unopened yet : never shadow there 



A READING OF EARTH 39] 

Of a Tartarus lighted by Dis 

For souls whose cry is, alack! 
An ivory cradle rocks, apeep 
Through his eyelashes' laugh, a breathing pearl. 



There the young chief of the animals wore 
A likeness to heavenly hosts, unaware 
Of his love of himself; with the hours at leap. 
In a dingle away from a rutted highroad, 
Around him the earliest throstle and merle, 
Our human smile between milk and sleep, 

Effervescent of Nature he crowed. 
Fair was that season ; furl over furl 
The banners of blossom; a dancing floor 
This earth; very angels the clouds; and fair 
Thou on the tablets of forehead and breast : 
Careless, a centre of vigilant care. 
Thy mother kisses an infant curl. 
The room of the toys was a boundless nest, 

A kingdom the field of the games, 

Till entered the craving for more, 

And the worshipped small body had aims. 
A good little idol, as records attest, 
When they tell of him lightly appeased in a scream 
By sweets and caresses : he gave but sign, 
That the heir of a purse-plumped dominant race, 
Accustomed to plenty, not dumb would pine. 
Almost magician, his earliest dream 

Was lord of the unpossessed 

For a look ; himself and his chase, 



392 A HEADING OF EARTH 

As on puffs of a wind at whirl, 
Made one in the wink of a gleam. 
She kisses a locket curl, 
She conjures to vision a cherub face, 
When her butterfly counted his day 
All meadow and flowers, mishap 
Derided, and taken for play 
The fling of an urchin's cap. 



When her butterfly showed him an eaglet born, 

For preying too heedlessly bred, 

What a heart clapped in thee then ! 

With what fuller colours of morn! 
And high to the uttermost heavens it flew, 

Swift as on poet's pen. 

It flew to be wedded, to wed 

The mystery scented around: 

Issue of flower and dew, 

Issue of light and sound : 

Thinner than either; a thread 

Spun of the dream they threw 

To kindle, allure, evade. 
It ran the sea-wave, the garden's dance, 
To the forest's dark heart down a dappled glade; 

Led on by a perishing glance, 

By a twinkle's eternal waylaid. 
Woman, the name was, when she took form; 
Sheaf of the wonders of life. She fled, 
Close imaged; she neared, far seen. How she made 
Palpitate earth of the living and dead! 



A READING OF EARTH 393 

Did she not show thee the world designed 
Solely for loveliness? Nested warm, 
The day was the morrow in flight. And for thee, 
She muted the discords, tuned, refined; 
Drowned sharp edges beneath her cloak. 
Eye of the waters and throb of the tree, 
Sliding on radiance, winging from shade, 
With her witch-whisper o'er ruins, in reeds, 
She sang low the song of her promise delayed ; 
Beckoned and died, as a finger of smoke 
Astream over woodland. And was not she 
History's heroines white on storm? 
Remember her summons to valorous deeds. 
Shone she a lure of the honey-bag swarm, 
Most was her beam on the knightly : she led 
For the honours of manhood more than the prize; 

Waved her magnetical yoke 

Whither the warrior bled, 

Ere to the bower of sighs. 
And shy of her secrets she was; under deeps 
Plunged at the breath of a thirst that woke 
The dream in the cave where the Dreaded sleeps. 



Away over heaven the young heart flew, 
And caught many lustres, till some one said 
(Or was it the thought into hearing grew?), 

Not thou as commoner men ! 

Thy stature puffed and it swayed, 

It stiffened to royal-erect; 

A brassy trumpet brayed; 



394 A READING OF EARTH 

A whirling seized thy head; 
The vision of beauty was flecked. 
Note well the how and the when, 
The thing that prompted and sped. 

Thereanon the keen passions clapped wing, 

Fixed eye, and the world was prey. 
No simple world of thy greenblade Spring, 

Nor world of thy flowerful prime 

On the topmost Orient peak 

Above a yet vaporous day. 

Flesh was it, breast to beak : 
A four-walled windowless world without ray, 
Only darkening jets on a river of slime, 
Where harsh over music as woodland jay, 

A voice chants, Woe to the weak! 

And along an insatiate feast, 

Women and men are one 

In the cup transforming to beast. 

Magian worship they paid to their sun, 
Lord of the Purse! Behold him climb. 

Stalked ever such figure of fun 
For monarch in great-grin pantomime? 
See now the heart dwindle, the frame distend; 
The soul to its anchorite cavern retreat, 
From a life that reeks of the rotted end; 
While he — is he pictureable? replete, 
Gourd-like swells of the rank of the soil, 

Hollow, more hollow at core. 

And for him did the hundreds toil 



A READING OF EARTH 395 

Despised ; in the cold and heat, 

This image ridiculous bore 

On their shoulders for morsels of meat! 

Gross, with the fumes of incense full, 
With parasites tickled, with slaves begirt, 
He strutted, a cock, he bellowed, a bull, 

He rolled him, a dog, in dirt. 
And dog, bull, cock, was he, fanged, horned, plumed; 
Original man, as philosophers vouch; 
Carnivorous, cannibal; length-long exhumed, 
Frightfully living and armed to devour; 
The primitive weapons of prey in his pouch; 

The bait, the line and the hook : 

To feed on his fellows intent. 

God of the Danae shower, 

He had but to follow his bent. 
He battened on fowl not safely hutched, 

On sheep astray from the crook ; 

A lure for the foolish in fold. 
To carrion turning what flesh he touched. 

And the grace of his air, 

As he at the goblet sips, 

A centre of girdles loosed, 

With their grisly label, Sold! 
Credulous hears the fidelity swear, 
Which has roving eyes over yielded lips : 
To-morrow will fancy himself the seduced, 

The stuck in a treacherous slough, 
Because of his faith in a purchased pair, 

False to a vinous vow. 



396 A READING OF EARTH 

In his glory of banquet strip him bare , 
And what is the creature we view? 

Our pursy Apollo Apollyon's tool; 
A small one, still of the crew 
By serpent Apollyon blest: 

His plea in apology, blindfold Fool. 

A fool surcharged, propelled, un warmed; 
Not viler, you hear him protest: 

Of a popular countenance not incorrect. 

But deeds are the picture in essence, deeds 
Paint him the hooved and horned, 
Despite the poor pother he pleads, 
And his look of a nation's elect. 

We have him, our quarry confessed! 
And scan him : the features inspect 
Of that bestial multiform : cry, 
Corroborate I, Samian Sage ! 

The book of thy wisdom, proved 
On me, its last hieroglyph page, 
Alive in the horned and hooved? 
Thou! will he make reply. 

Thus has the plenary purse 
Done often : to do will engage 
Anew upon all of thy like, or worse. 

And now is thy deepest regret 
To be man, clean rescued from beast: 
From the grip of the Sorcerer, Gold, 
Celestially released. 



A HEADING OF EARTH 397 

But now from his cavernous hold, 

Free may thy soul be set, 
As a child of the Death and the Life, to learn, 

Refreshed by some bodily sweat, 

The meaning of either in turn, 

What issue may come of the two : — 
A morn beyond mornings, beyond all reach 
Of emotional arms at the stretch to enfold : 
A firmament passing our visible blue. 
To those having nought to reflect it, 't is nought; 
To those who are misty, 'tis mist on the beach 
From the billow withdrawing; to those who see 

Earth, our mother, in thought, 

Her spirit it is, our key. 

Ay, the Life and the Death are her words to us here, 

Of one significance, pricking the blind. 

This is thy gain now the surface is clear : 

To read with a soul in the mirror of mind, 

Is man's chief lesson. — Thou smilest! I preach! 

Acid smiling, my friend, reveals 
Abysses within; frigid preaching a street 

Paved unconcernedly smooth 

For the lecturer straight on his heels, 

Up and down a policeman's beat; 

Bearing tonics not labelled to soothe. 
Thou hast a disgust of the sermon in rhyme. 
It is not attractive in being too chaste. 
The popular tale of adventure and crime 
Would equally sicken an overdone taste. 
So, then, onward. Philosophy, thoughtless to soothe, 
Lifts, if thou wilt, or there leaves thee supine. 



398 A READING OF EARTH 

Thy condition, good sooth, has no seeming of sweet ; 
It walks our first crags, it is flint for the tooth, 

For the thirsts of our nature brine. 
But manful has met it, manful will meet. 
And think of thy privilege : supple with youth, 

To have sight of the headlong swine, 

Once fouling thee, jumping the dips ! 

As the coin of thy purse poured out : 

An animal's holiday past: 
And free of them thou, to begin a new bout ; 
To start a fresh hunt on a resolute blast : 
No more an imp-ridden to bournes of eclipse : 
Having knowledge to spur thee, a gift to compare; 
Rubbing shoulder to shoulder, as only the book 
Of the world can be read, by necessity urged. 
For witness, what blinkers are they who look 
From the state of the prince or the millionnaire! 

They see but the fish they attract, 

The hungers on them converged; 
And never the thought in the shell of the act, 

Nor ever life's fangless mirth. 
But first, that the poisonous of thee be purged, 

Go into thyself, strike Earth. 
She is there, she is felt in a blow struck hard. 
Thou findest a pugilist countering quick, 
Cunning at drives where thy shutters are barred ; 
Not, after the studied professional trick, 
Blue-sealing; she brightens the sight. Strike Earth, 
Antaeus, young giant, whom fortune trips ! 

And thou com'st on a saving fact, 

To nourish thy planted worth. 



A HEADING OF EARTH ' 399 

Be it clay , flint, mud, or the rubble of chips, 
Thy roots have grasp in the stern-exact : 
The redemption of sinners deluded! the last 

Dry handful, that bruises and saves. 
To the common big heart are we bound right fast, 

When our Mother admonishing nips 

At the nakedness bare of a clout, 

And we crave what the commonest craves. 

This wealth was a fortress-wall, 
Under which grew our grim little beast-god stout; 
Self -worshipped, the foe, in division from all; 
With crowds of illogical Christians, no doubt; 

Till the rescuing earthquake cracked. 

Thus are we man made firm; 

Made warm by the numbers compact. 
We follow no longer a trumpet-snout, 

At a trot where the hog is tracked, 

Nor wriggle the way of the worm. 

Thou wilt spare us the cynical pout 
At humanity: sign of a nature bechurled. 

No stenchy anathemas cast 

Upon Providence, women, the world. 
Distinguish thy tempers and trim thy wits. 
The purchased are things of the mart r not classed 
Among resonant types that have freely grown. 
Thy knowledge of women might be surpassed: 
As any sad dog's of sweet flesh when he quits 

The wayside wandering bone! 
No revilines of comrades as ingrates: thee 



400 A READING OF EARTH 

The tempter, inisleader, and criminal (screened 

By laws yet barbarous) own. 
If some one performed Fiend's deputy, 

He was for awhile the Fiend. 



Still, nursing a passion to speak, 
As the punch-bowl does, in the moral vein, 

When the ladle has finished its leak, 
And the vessel is loquent of nature's inane, 

Hie where the demagogues roar 
Like a Phalaris bull, with the victim's force: 

Hurrah to their jolly attack 

On a City that smokes of the Plain ; 

A city of sin's death-dyes, 

Holding revel of worms in a corse; 

A city of malady sore, 

Over-ripe for the big doom's crack: 

A city of hymnical snore; 

Connubial truths and lies 

Demanding an instant divorce, 

Clean as the bright from the black. 
It were well for thy system to sermonize. 
There are giants to slay, and they call for their Jack, 

Then up stand thou in the midst: 
Thy good grain out of thee thresh, 
Hand upon heart: relate 
What things thou legally did'st 
For the Archseducer of flesh. 
Omitting the murmurs at women and fate, 



A HEADING OF EAKTH 401 

Confess thee an instrument armed 
To be snare of our wanton, our weak, 
Of all by the sensual charmed. 
For once shall repentance be done by the tongue : 
Speak, though execrate, speak 
A word on grandmotherly Laws 
Giving rivers of gold to our young, 
In the days of their hungers impure; 
To furnish them beak and claws, 
And make them a banquet's lure. 



Thou the example, saved 
Miraculously by this poor skin! 

Thereat let the Purse be waved : 
The snake -slough sick of the snaky sin: 
A devil, if devil as devil behaved 
Ever, thou knowest, look thou but in, 
Where he shivers, a culprit fettered and shaved; 
a bird stripped of feather, a fish clipped of fin ! 



And commend for a washing the torrents of wrath, 
Which hurl at the foe of the dearest men prize, 

Rough-rolling boulders and froth. 
Gigantical enginery they can command, 
For the crushing of enemies not of great size: 

But hold to thy desperate stand. 
Men's right of bequeathing their all to their own 
(With little regard for the creatures they squeezed) ; 
Their mill and mill-water and nether mill-stone 

26 



402 A READING OF EARTH 

Tied fast to their infant; lo, this is the last 

Of their hungers, by prudent devices appeased. 

The law they decree is their ultimate slave; 

Wherein we perceive old Voracity glassed. 

It works from their dust, and it reeks of their grave. 

Point them to greener, though Journals be guns; 

To brotherly fields under fatherly skies ; 

"Where the savage still primitive learns of a debt 

He has owed since he drummed on his belly for war; 

And how for his giving, the more will he get; 

For trusting his fellows, leave friends round his sons. 

Till they see, with the gape of a startled surprise, 

Their adored tyrant-monster a brute to abhor, 

The sun of their system a father of flies ! 



So, for such good hope, take their scourge unashamed; 
'T is the portion of them who civilize, 

Who speak the word novel and true : 
How the brutish antique of our springs may be tamed, 
Without loss of the strength that should push us to flower; 
How the God of old time will act Satan of new, 
If we keep him not straight at the higher God aimed ; 
For whose habitation within us we scour 
This house of our life ; where our bitterest pains 
Are those to eject the Infernal, who heaps 
Mire on the soul. Take stripes or chains; 

Grip at thy standard reviled. 
And what if our body be dashed from the steeps? 

Our spoken in protest remains. 

A young generation reaps. 



A READING OF EAltTH 403 

The young generation! ah, there is the child 

Of our souls down the Ages ! to bleed for it, proof 

That souls we have, with our senses filed, 

Our shuttles at thread of the woof. 

May it be braver than ours, 
To encounter the rattle of hostile bolts, 
To look on the rising of Stranger Powers. 
May it know how the mind in expansion revolts 
From a nursery Past with dead letters aloof, 
And the piping to stupor of Precedents shun, 
In a field where the forefather print of the hoof i 

Is not yet overgrassed by the watering hours, 
And should prompt us to Change, as to promise of sun, 
- Till brain-rule splendidly towers. 

For that large light we have laboured and tramped 
Thorough forest and bogland, still to perceive 

Our animate morning stamped 

With the lines of a sombre eve. 

A timorous thing ran the innocent hind, 

When the wolf was the hypocrite fang under hood, 

The snake a lithe lurker up sleeve. 

And the lion effulgently ramped. 
Then our forefather hoof did its work in the wood, 

By right of the better in kind. 
But now will it breed yon bestial brood 
Three-fold thrice over, if bent to bind, 

As the healthy in chains with the sick, 
Unto despot usage our issuing mind. 
It signifies battle or death's dull knell. 



404 A READING OF EARTH 

Precedents icily written on high, 

Challenge the Tentatives hot to rebel. 

Our Mother, who speeds her bloomful quick 

Por the march, reads which the impediment well. 

She smiles when of sapience is their boast. 

O loose of the tug between blood run dry 

And blood running flame may our offspring run ! 

May brain democratic be king of the host! 

Less then shall the volumes of History tell 

Of the step in progression, the slip in relapse, 

That counts us a sand-slack inch hard won, 

Beneath an oppressive incumbent perhaps. 

Let the senile lords in a parchment sky, 

And the generous turbulents drunken of morn, 

Their battle of instincts put by, 

A moment examine this field: 
On a Koman street cast thoughtful eye, 
Along to the mounts from the bog-forest weald. 
It merits a glance at our history's maps, 
To see across Britain's old shaggy unshorn, 
Through the Parties in strife internecine, foot 
The ruler's close-reckoned direct to the mark. 
Prom the head ran the vanquisher's orderly route, 
In the stride of his forts through the tangle and dark. 
Prom the head runs the paved firm way for advance, 
And we shoulder, we wrangle ! The light on us shed, 
Shows dense beetle blackness in swarm, lurid Chance, 
The Goddess of gamblers, above. Prom the head, 
Then when it worked for the birth of a star 
Praternal with heaven's in beauty and ray, 



A READING OF EARTH 405 

Sprang the Acropolis. Ask what crown 

Comes of our tides of the blood at war, 

For men to bequeath generations down! 

And ask what thou wast when the Purse was brimmed: 

What high-bounding ball for the Gods at play : 

A Conservative youth! who the cream -bowl skimmed, 

Desiring affairs to be left as they are. 



So, thou takest Youth's natural place in the fray, 

As a Tentative, combating Peace, 

Our lullaby word for decay. — 

There will come an immediate decree 
In thy mind for the opposite party's decease, 

If he bends not an instant knee. 
Expunge it : extinguishing counts poor gain. 

And accept a mild word of police : — 

Be mannerly, measured ; refrain 
Prom the puffings of him of the bagpipe cheeks. 
Our political, even as the merchant main, 

A temperate gale requires 

For the ship that haven seeks ; 
Neither God of the winds nor his bellowsy squires. 

Then observe the antagonist, con 
His reasons for rocking the lullaby word. 
You stand on a different stage of the stairs. 
He fought certain battles, yon senile lord. 
In the strength of thee, feel his bequest to his heirs. 
We are now on his inches of ground hard won, 
For a perch to a flight o'er his resting fence. 



406 A READING OF EARTH 

Does it knock too hard at thy head if I say, 

That Time is both father and son? 
Tough lesson, when senses are floods over sense! — 

Discern the paternal of Now 

As the Then of thy present tense. 

You may pull as you will either way, 

You can never be other than one. 

So, be filial. Giants to slay, 

Demand knowing eyes in their Jack. 
There are those whom we push from the path with respect. 
Bow to that elder, though seeing him bow 
To the backward as well, for a thunderous back 
Upon thee. In his day he was not all wrong. 
Unto some foundered zenith he strove, and was wrecked. 
He scrambled to shore with a worship of shore. 
The Future he sees as the slippery murk; 
The Fast as his doctrinal library lore. 
He stands now the rock to the wave's wild wash. 
Yet thy lumpish antagonist once did work 

Heroical, one of our strong. 
His gold to retain and his dross reject, 
Engage him, but humour, not aiming to quash. 

Detest the dead squat of the Turk, 

And suffice it to move him along. 

Drink of faith in the brains a full draught 
Before the oration : beware 
Lest rhetoric moonily waft 
Whither horrid activities snare. 
Khetoric, juice for the mob 
Despising more luminous grape, 



A BEADING OP EARTH 407 

Oft at its fount has it laughed 
In the cataracts rolling for rape 
Of a Reason left single to sob ! 

'T is known how the permanent never is writ 
In blood of the passions : mercurial they, 
Shifty their issue: stir not that pit 
To the game our brutes best play. 

But with rhetoric loose, can we check man's brute? 
Assemblies of men on their legs invoke 
Excitement for wholesome diversion : there shoot 
Electrical sparks between their dry thatch 
And thy waved torch, more to kindle than light. 
'T is instant between you : the trick of a catch 

(To match a Batrachian croak) 
Will thump them a frenzy or fun in their veins. 
Then may it be rather the well-worn joke 
Thou repeatest, to stop conflagration, and write 
Penance for rhetoric. Strange will it seem, 
When thou readest that form of thy homage to brains I 

For the secret why demagogues fail, 
Though they carry hot mobs to the red extreme, 

And knock out or knock in the nail 

(We will rank them as flatly sincere, 

Devoutly detesting a wrong, 
Engines o'ercharged with our human steam), 
Question thee, seething amid the throng. 
And ask, whether Wisdom is born of blood-heat; 
Or of other than Wisdom comes victory here ; — ■ 
Aught more than the banquet and roundelay, 



408 A READING OF EAETH 

That is closed with a terrible terminal wail, 

A retributive black ding-dong? 
And ask of thyself : This furious Yea 

Of a speech I thump to repeat, 

In the cause I would have prevail, 

For seed of a nourishing wheat, 

Is it accepted of Song ? 

Does it sound to the mind through the ear, 
Eight sober, pure sane? has it disciplined feet? 

Thou wilt find it a test severe; 

Unerring whatever the theme. 
Rings it for Reason a melody clear, 

We have bidden old Chaos retreat; 

We have called on Creation to hear; 
All forces that make us are one full stream. 

Simple islander! thus may the spirit in verse, 
Showing its practical value and weight, 
Pipe to thee clear from the Empty Purse. 
Lead thee aloft to that high estate. — 
The test is conclusive, I deem : 
It embraces or mortally bites. 
We have then the key-note for debate- 
A Senate that sits on the heights 
Over discords, to shape and amend. 

And no singer is needed to serve 
The musical God, my friend. 
Needs only his law on a sensible nerve: 
A law that to Measure invites, 
Forbidding the passions contend. 



A READING OF EARTH 409 

Is it accepted of Song ? 

And if then the blunt answer be Nay, 
Dislink thee sharp from the ramping horde, 
Slaves of the Goddess of hoar-old sway, 

The Queen of delirous rites, 
Queen of those issueless mobs, that rend 
For frenzy the strings of a fruitful accord, 
Pursuing insensate, seething in throng, 
Their wild idea to its ashen end. 
Off to their Phrygia, shriek and gong, 
Shorn from their fellows, behold them wend! 

But thou, should the answer ring Ay, 

Hast warrant of seed for thy word : 

The musical God is nigh 
To inspirit and temper, tune it, and steer 

Through the shoals : is it worthy of Song, 

There are souls all woman to hear, 

"Woman to bear and renew. 
For he is the Master of Measure, and weighs, 

Broad as the arms of his blue, 

Fine as the web of his rays, 
Justice, whose voice is a melody clear, 
The one sure life for the numbered long. 

From him are the brutal and vain, 

The vile, the excessive, out-thrust: 
He points to the God on the upmost throne: 

He is the saver of grain, 

The sifter of spirit from dust. 
He, Harmony, tells how to Measure pertain 

The virilities : Measure alone 

Has votaries rich in the male : 



410 A READING OF EARTH 

Fathers embracing no cloud, 

Sowing no harvestless main : 
Alike by the flesh and the spirit endowed 
To create, to perpetuate ; woo, win, wed ; 
Send progeny streaming, have earth for their own, 
Over-run the insensates, disperse with a puff 

Simulacra, though solid they sail, 

And seem such imperial stuff: 

Yes, the living divide off the dead. 

Then thou with thy furies outgrown, 
Not as Cybele's beast will thy head lash tail 
So prseter-determinedly thermonous, 
Nor thy cause be an Attis far fled. 
Thou under stress of the strife, 
Shalt hear for sustainment supreme, 
The cry of the conscience of Life : 
Keep the young generations in hail, 
And bequeath them no tumbled house t 

There hast thou the sacred theme, 
Therein the inveterate spur, 
Of the Innermost. See her one blink 
In vision past eyeballs. Not thee 
She cares for, but us. Follow her. 
Follow her, and thou wilt not sink. 
With thy soul the Life espouse : 
This Life of the visible, audible, ring 
With thy love tight about; and no death will be; 
The name be an empty thing, 
And woe a forgotten old trick: 
And battle will come as a challenge to drink; 



A READING OF EARTH 411 

As a warrior's wound each transient sting. 

She leads to the Uppermost link by link; 

Exacts but vision, desires not vows. 

Above us the singular number to see ; 

The plural warm round us ; ourself in the thick, 

A dot or a stop : that is our task ; 

Her lesson in figured arithmetic, 

For the letters of Life behind its mask ; 

Her flower-like look under fearful brows. 

As for thy special case, my friend, one must think 
Massilia's victim, who held the carouse 

For the length of a carnival year, 
Knew worse : but the wretch had his opening choice. 
For thee, by our law, no alternatives were : 
Thy fall was assured ere thou earnest to a voice. 

He cancelled the ravaging Plague, 

With the roll of his fat off the cliff. 
Do thou with thy lean as the weapon of ink, 
Though they call thee an angler who fishes the vague 

And catches the not too pink, 
Attack one as murderous, knowing thy cause 
Is the cause of community. Iterate, 
Iterate, iterate, harp on the trite : 
Our preacher to win is the supple in stiff: 
Yet always in measure, with bearing polite : 
The manner of one that would expiate 

His share in grandmotherly Laws, 

Which do the dark thing to destroy, 
Under aspect of water so guilelessly white 
For the general use, by the devils befouled. 



412 A READING OF EAETH 

Enough, poor prodigal boy! 
Thou hast listened with patience; another had howled. 
Eepentance is proved, forgiveness is earned. 
And 't is bony : denied thee thy succulent half 
Of the parable's blessing to swineherd returned: 
A Sermon thy slice of the Scriptural calf! 

By my faith, there is feasting to come, 

Not the less, when our Earth we have seen 
Beneath and on surface, her deeds and designs : 
Who gives us the man-loving Nazarene, 
The martyrs, the poets, the corn and the vines. 
By my faith in the head, she has wonders in loom; 
Revelations, delights. I can hear a faint crow 
Of the cock of fresh mornings, far, far, yet distinct; 

As down the new shafting of mines, 

A cry of the metally goome. 

When our Earth we have seen, and have linked 
With the home of the Spirit to whom we unfold, 
Imprisoned humanity open will throw 
Its fortress gates, and the rivers of gold 

For the congregate friendliness flow. 
Then the meaning of Earth in her children behold: 
Glad eyes, frank hands, and a fellowship real : 
And laughter on lips, as the birds' outburst 
At the flooding of light. No robbery then 
The feast, nor a robber's abode the home, 
For a furnished model of our first den ! 

Nor Life as a stationed wheel ; 
Nor History written in blood or in foam, 
For vendetta of Parties in cursing accursed. 



A HEADING OF EARTH 413 

The God in the conscience of multitudes feel, 

And we feel deep to Earth at her heart, 

We have her communion with men, 

New ground, new skies for appeal. 
Yield into harness thy best and thy worst; 
Away on the trot of thy servitude start, 
Through the rigours and joys and sustainments of air. 
If courage should falter, 't is wholesome to kneel. 
Remember that well, for the secret with some, 
Who pray for no gift, but have cleansing in prayer, 
And free from impurities tower-like stand. 
I promise not more, save that feasting will come 
To a mind and a body no longer inversed : 
The sense of large charity over the land, 
Earth's wheaten of wisdom dispensed in the rough, 
And a bell ringing thanks for a sustenance meal 

Through the active machine: lean fare, 
But it carries a sparkle ! And now enough, 

And part we as comrades part, 
To meet again never or some day or soon. 

Our season of drought is reminder rude : — 

No later than yesternoon, 

I looked on the horse of a cart, 

By the wayside water-trough. 
How at every draught of his bride of thirst 
His nostrils widened ! The sight was good : 

Eood for us, food, such as first 

Drew our thoughts to earth's lowly for food. 



JUMP-TO-GLORY JANE 



A revelation came on Jane, 

The widow of a labouring swain : 

And first her body trembled sharp, 

Then all the woman was a harp 

With winds along the strings ; she heard, 

Though there was neither tone nor word. 

ii 

For past our hearing was the air, 
Beyond our speaking what it bare, 
And she within herself had sight 
Of heaven at work to cleanse outright, 
To make of her a mansion fit 
For angel hosts inside to sit. 



in 

They entered, and forthwith entranced, 
Her body braced, her members danced ; 
Surprisingly the woman leapt ; 
And countenance composed she kept ; 
As gossip neighbours in the lane 
Declared, who saw and pitied Jane. 



A READING OF EARTH 415 



IV 



These knew she had been reading books, 

The which was witnessed by her looks 

Of late : she had a mania 

For mad folk in America, 

And said for sure they led the way, 

But meat and beer were meant to stay. 



That she had visited a fair, 
Had seen a gauzy lady there, 
Alive with tricks on legs alone, 
As good as wings, was also known : 
And longwhiles in a sullen mood, 
Before her jumping, Jane would brood. 



VI 



A good knee's height, they say, she sprang ; 

Her arms and feet like those who hang : 

As if afire the body sped, 

And neither pair contributed. 

She jumped in silence : she was thought 

A corpse to resurrection caught. 



416 A READING OF EARTH 



VII 



The villagers were mostly dazed ; 

They jeered, they wondered, and they praised. 

'T was guessed by some she was inspired, 

And some would have it she had hired 

An engine in her petticoats, 

To turn their wits and win their votes. 



VIII 

Her first was Winny Earnes, a kind 
Of woman not to dance inclined ; 
But she went up, entirely won, 
Ere Jump-to-glory Jane had done ; 
And once a vixen wild for speech, 
She found the better way to preach. 



IX 



No long time after, Jane was seen 
Directing jumps at Daddy Green ; 
And that old man, to watch her fly, 
Had eyebrows made of arches high ; 
Till homeward he likewise did hop, 
Oft calling on himself to stop ! 



A HEADING OF EARTH 417 



It was a scene when man and maid, 
Abandoning all other trade, 
And careless of the call to meals, 
Went jumping at the woman's heels. 
By dozens they were counted soon, 
Without a sound to tell their tune. 



XI 

Along the roads they came, and crossed 
The fields, and o'er the hills were lost, 
And in the evening reappeared ; 
Then short like hobbled horses reared, 
And down upon the grass they plumped 
Alone their Jane to glory jumped. 



XII 

At morn they rose, to see her spring 
All going as an engine thing ; 
And lighter than the gossamer 
She led the bobbers following her, 
Past old acquaintances, and where 
They made the stranger stupid stare. 

27 



418 A READING OF EARTH 



XIII 



When turnips were a filling crop, 
In scorn they jumped a butcher's shop : 
Or, spite of threats to flog and souse, 
They jumped for shame a public-house : 
And much their legs were seized with rage 
If passing by the vicarage. 



XIV 

The tightness of a hempen rope 
Their bodies got ; but laundry soap 
Not handsomer can rub the skin 
For token of the washed within. 
Occasionally coughers cast 
A leg aloft and coughed their last. 



xv 



The weaker maids and some old men, 
Requiring rafters for the pen 
On rainy nights, were those who fell. 
The rest were quite a miracle, 
Refreshed as you may search all round 
On Club-feast days and cry, Not found ! 



A BEADING OF EARTH 419 



XVI 



For these poor innocents, that slept 

Against the sky, soft women wept : 

For never did they any theft ; 

'T was known when they their camping left, 

And jumped the cold out of their rags ; 

In spirit rich as money-bags. 



XVII 



They jumped the question, jumped reply ; 
And whether to insist, deny, 
Reprove, persuade, they jumped in ranks 
Or singly, straight the arms to flanks, 
And straight the legs, with just a knee 
For bending in a mild degree. 



XVIII 

The villagers might call them mad; 

An endless holiday they had, 

Of pleasure in a serious work : 

They taught by leaps where perils lurk, 

And with the lambkins practised sports 

For 'scaping Satan's pounds and quarts. 



420 A READING OF EARTH 



XIX 

It really seemed on certain days, 

When they bobbed up their Lord to praise, 

And bobbing up they caught the glance 

Of light, our secret is to dance, 

And hold the tongue from hindering peace; 

To dance out preacher and police. 



xx 

Those flies of boys disturbed them sore 
On Sundays and when daylight wore: 
With withies cut from hedge or copse, 
They treated them as whipping-tops, 
And flung big stones with cruel aim ; 
Yet all the flock jumped on the same. 



XXI 

For what could persecution do 

To worry such a blessed crew, 

On whom it was as wind to fire, 

Which set them always jumping higher ? 

The parson and the lawyer tried, 

By meek persistency defied. 



A READING OF EARTH 421 



XXII 



But if they bore, they could pursue 
As well, and this the Bishop too; 
When inner warnings proved him plain 
The chase for Jump-to-glory Jane. 
She knew it by his being sent 
To bless the feasting in the tent. 



XXIII 



Not less than fifty years on end, 
The Squire had been the Bishop's friend: 
And his poor tenants, harmless ones, 
With souls to save ! fed not on buns, 
But angry meats : she took her place 
Outside to show the way to grace. 



XXIV 

In apron suit the Bishop stood; 
The crowding people kindly viewed. 
A gaunt grey woman he saw rise 
On air, with most beseeching eyes : 
And evident as light in dark 
It was, she set to him for mark. 



422 A BEADING OF EARTH 



XXV 



Her highest leap had come : with ease 
She jumped to reach the Bishop's knees 
Compressing tight her arms and lips, 
She sought to jump the Bishop's hips: 
Her aim flew at his apron-band, 
That he might see and understand. 



XXVI 

The mild inquiry of his gaze 

Was altered to a peaked amaze, 

At sight of thirty in ascent; 

To gain his notice clearly bent: 

And greatly Jane at heart was vexed 

By his ploughed look of mind perplexed. 



XXVII 

In jumps that said, Beware the pit ! 
More eloquent than speaking it — 
That said, Avoid the boiled, the roast; 
The heated nose on face of ghost, 
Which comes of drinking : up and o'er 
The flesh with me! did Jane implore. 



A READING OF EARTH 423 



XXVIII 



She jumped him high as huntsmen go 
Across the gate ; she jumped him low, 
To coax him to begin and feel 
His infant steps returning, peel 
His mortal pride, exposing fruit, 
And off with hat and apron suit. 



XXIX 

We need much patience, well she knew, 
And out and out, and through and through, 
When we would gentlefolk address, 
However we may seek to bless : 
At times they hide them like the beasts 
From sacred beams ; and mostly priests. 



XXX 

He gave no sign of making bare, 
Nor she of faintness or despair. 
Inflamed with hope that she might win, 
If she but coaxed him to begin, 
She used all arts for making fain ; 
The mother with her babe was Jane. 



424 A READING OP EARTH 



XXXI 

Now stamped the Squire, and knowing not 

Her business, waved her from the spot. 

Encircled by the men of might, 

The head of Jane, like flickering light, 

As in a charger, they beheld 

Ere she was from the park expelled. 



XXXII 

Her grief, in jumps of earthly weight, 
Did Jane around communicate : 
For that the moment when began 
The holy but mistaken man, 
In view of light, to take his lift, 
They cut him from her charm adrift! 



XXXIII 

And he was lost: a banished face 
For ever from the ways of grace, 
Unless pinched hard by dreams in fright. 
They saw the Bishop's wavering sprite 
Within her look, at come and go, 
Long after he had caused her woe. 



A READING OF EABTH 425 



XXXIV 

Her greying eyes (until she sank 
At Fredsham on the wayside bank, 
Like cinder heaps that whitened lie 
From coals that shot the flame to sky) 
Had glassy vacancies, which yearned 
For one in memory discerned. 



xxxv 

May those who ply the tongue that cheats, 
And those who rush to beer and meats, 
And those whose mean ambition aims 
At palaces and titled names, 
Depart in such a cheerful strain 
As did our Jump-to-glory Jane ! 



XXXVI 

Her end was beautiful : one sigh. 

She jumped a foot when it was nigh. 

A lily in a linen clout 

She looked when they had laid her out. 

It is a lily-light she bears 

For England up the ladder-stairs. 



ODES 



TO THE COMIC SPIRIT 

Sword of Common Sense ! — 

Our surest gift : the sacred chain 

Of man to man: firm earth for trust 

In structures vowed to permanence : — 

Thou guardian issue of the harvest brain! 

Implacable perforce of just; 

With that good treasure in defence, 

Which is our gold crushed out of joy and pain 

Since first men planted foot and hand was king: 

Bright, nimble of the marrow-nerve 

To wield thy double edge, retort 

Or hold the deadlier reserve, 

And through thy victim's weapon sting: 

Thine is the service, thine the sport 

This shifty heart of ours to hunt 

Across its webs and round the many a ring 

Where fox it is, or snake, or mingled seeds 

Occasion heats to shape, or the poor smoke 

Struck from a puff-ball, or the troughster's grunt; 

Once lion of our desert's trodden weeds; 

And but for thy straight finger at the yoke, 



428 odes 

Again to be the lordly paw, 

Naming his appetites his needs, 

Behind a decorative cloak: 

Thou, of the highest, the unwritten Law 

We read upon that building's architrave 

In the mind's firmament, by men upraised 

With sweat of blood when they had quitted cave 

For fellowship, and rearward looked amazed, 

Where the prime motive gapes a lurid jaw, 

Thou, soul of wakened heads, art armed to warn, 

Restrain, lest we backslide on whence we sprang, 

Scarce better than our dwarf beginning shoot, 

Of every gathered pearl and blossom shorn ; 

Through thee, in novel wiles to win disguise, 

Seen are the pits of the disruptor, seen 

His rebel agitation at our root : 

Thou hast him out of hawking eyes; 

Nor ever morning of the clang 

Young Echo sped on hill from horn 

In forest blown when scent was keen 

Off earth}' dews besprinkling blades 

Of covert grass more merrily rang 

The yelp of chase down alleys green, 

Forth of the headlong-pouring glades, 

Over the dappled fallows wild away, 

Than thy fine unaccented scorn 

At sight of man's old secret brute, 

Devout for pasture on his prey, 

Advancing, yawning to devour; 

With step of deer, with voice of flute, 

Haply with visage of the lilv flower. 



odes 429 

Let the cock crow and ruddy morn 

His handmaiden appear! Youth claims his hour. 

The generously ludicrous 

Espouses it. But see we sons of day, 

On whom Life leans for guidance in our fight, 

Accept the throb for lord of us; 

For lord, for the main central light 

That gives direction, not the eclipse; — 

Or dost thou look where niggard Age, 

Demanding reverence for wrinkles, whips 

A tumbled top to grind a wolf's worn tooth; — 

Hoar despot on our final stage, 

In dotage of a stunted Youth ; — 

Or it may be some venerable sage, 

Not having thee awake in him, compact 

Of wisdom else, the breast's old tempter trips; 

Or see we ceremonial state, 

Robing the gilded beast, exact 

Abjection, while the crackskull name of Fate 

Is used to stamp and hallow printed fact; 

A cruel corner lengthens up thy lips ; 

These are thy game wherever men engage: 

These and, majestic in a borrowed shape, 

The major and the minor potentate, 

Creative of their various ape; — 

The tiptoe mortals triumphing to write 

Upon a perishable page 

An inch above their fellows' height; — 

The criers of foregone wisdom, who impose 

Its slough on live conditions, much for the greed 

Of our first hungry figure wide agape ; — 



430 ODES 

Call up thy hounds of laughter to their run. 

These, that would have men still of men be foes, 

Eternal fox to prowl and pike to feed; 

Would keep our life the whirly pool 

Of turbid stuff dishonouring History; 

The herd the drover's herd, the fool the fool, 

Ourself our slavish self's infernal sun; 

These are the children of the heart untaught 

By thy quick founts to beat abroad, by thee 

Untamed to tone its passions under thought, 

The rich humaneness reading in thy fun. 

Of them a world of coltish heels for school, 

We have; a world with driving wrecks bestrewn. 



'T is written of the Gods of human mould, 

Those Nectar Gods, of glorious stature hewn 

To quicken hymns, that they did hear incensed, 

Satiric comments overbold, 

From one whose part was by decree 

The jester's; but they boiled to feel him bite. 

Better for them had they with Reason fenced 

Or smiled corrected! They in the great Gods' might, 

Their prober crushed, as fingers flea. 

Crumbled Olympus when the sovereign sire 

His fatal kick to Momus gave, albeit 

Men could behold the sacred Mount aspire, 

The Satirist pass by on limping feet. 

Those Gods who saw the ejected laugh alight 

Below, had then their last of airy glee; 

They in the cup sought Laughter's drowned sprite, 



ODES 431 

Fed to dire fatness off uncurbed conceit. 

Eyes under saw them waddle on their Mount, 

And drew them down; to flattest earth they rolled. 

This know we veritable. Sage of Mirth! 

Can it be true, the story men recount 

Of the fall'n plight of the great Gods on earth? 

How they being deathless, though of human mould, 

With human cravings, undecaying frames, 

Must labour for subsistence; are a band 

Whom a loose-cheeked, wide-lipped gay cripple leads 

At haunts of holiday on summer sand : 

And lightly he will hint to one that heeds, 

Names in pained designation of them, names 

Ensphered on blue skies and on black, which twirl 

Our hearing madly from our seeing dazed, 

Add Bacchus unto both; and he entreats 

(His baby dimples in maternal chaps 

Running wild labyrinths of line and curl) 

Compassion for his masterful Trombone, 

Whose thunder is the brass of how he blazed 

Of old: for him of the mountain-muscle feats, 

Who guts a drum to fetch a snappish groan: 

For his fierce bugler horning onset, whom 

A truncheon-battered helmet caps. . . . 

The creature is of earnest mien 

To plead a sorrow darker than the tomb. 

His Harp and Triangle, in tone subdued, 

He names ; they are a ray less red and white ; 

The dawn-hued libertine, the gibbous prude. 

And, if we recognize his Tambourine, 

He asks ; exhausted names her : she has become 



432 odes 

A globe in cupolas; the blowsiest queen 

Of overflowing dome on dome ; 

Redundancy contending with the tight, 

Leaping the dam! He fondly calls, his girl, 

The buxom tripper with the goblet-smile, 

Refreshful. but now his brows are dun, 

Bunched are his lips, as when distilling guile, 

To drop bis venomous: the Dame of dames, 

Flower of the world, that honey one, 

She of the earthly rose in the sea-pearl, 

To whom the world ran ocean for her kiss ; 

He names her, as a worshipper he names, 

And indicates with a contemptuous tbumb. 

The lady meanwhile lares the mob, alike 

Ogles the bursters of the horn and drum. 

Curtain her close ! her open arms 

Have suckers for beholders : she to this ? 

For that she could not, save in fury, hear 

A sharp corrective utterance flick 

Her idle manners, for the laugh to strike 

Beauty so breeding beauty, without peer 

Above the snows, among the flowers ? She reaps 

This mouldy garner of the fatal kick ? 

Gross with the sacrifice of Circe-swarms, 

Astarte of vile sweets that slay, malign, 

From Greek resplendent to Phoenician foul, 

The trader in attractions sinks, all brine 

To thoughts of taste; is 't love? — bark, dog! hoot, owl' 

And she is blushless : ancient worship weeps. 

Suicide Graces dangle down the charms 

Sprawling like gourds on outer garden-heaps. 



odes 433 

She stands in her unholy oily leer 

A statue losing feature, weather-sick 

Mid draggled creepers of twined ivy sere. 

The curtain cried for magnifies to see ! — 

We cannot quench our one corrupting glance : 

The vision of the rumour will not flee. 

Doth the Boy own such Mother? — shoot his dart 

To bring her, countless as the crested deeps, 

Her subjects of the uncorrected heart? 

False is that vision, shrieks the devotee; 

Incredible, we echo ; and anew 

Like a far growling lightning-cloud it leaps. 

Low humourist this leader seems ; perchance 

Pitched from his University career, 

Adept at classic fooling. Yet of mould 

Human those Gods were : deathless too : 

On high they not as meditatives paced : 

Prodigiously they did the deeds of flesh : 

Descending, they would touch the lowest here : 

And she, that lighted form of blue and gold, 

Whom the seas gave, all earth, all earth embraced; 

Exulting in the great hauls of her mesh; 

Desired and hated, desperately dear; 

Most human of them was. No more pursue! 

Enough that the black story can be told. 

It preaches to the eminently placed : 

For whom disastrous wreckage is nigh due, 

Paints omen. Truly they our throbber had; 

The passions plumping, passions playing leech, 

Cunning to trick us for the day's good cheer. 

Our uncorrected human heart will swell 

28 



431 ODES 

To notions monstrous, doings mad 

As billows on a foam-lashed beach ; 

Borne on the tides of alternating heats, 

Will drug the brain, will doom the soul as well; 

Call the closed mouth of that harsh final Power 

To speak in judgement : Nemesis, the fell : 

Of those bright Gods assembled, offspring sour; 

The last surviving on the upper seats; 

As with men Keason when their hearts rebel. 



Ah, what a fruitless breeder is this heart, 
Full of the mingled seeds, each eating each. 
Not wiser of our mark than at the start, 
It surges like the wrath-faced father Sea 
To countering winds; a force blind-eyed, 
On endless rounds of aimless reach; 
Emotion for the source of pride, 
The grounds of faith in fixity- 
Above our flesh ; its cravings urging speech, 
Inspiring prayer; by turns a lump 
Swung on a time-piece, and by turns 
A quivering energy to jump 
For seats angelical: it shrinks, it yearns, 
Loves, loathes; is flame or cinders; lastly cloud 
Capping a sullen crater: and mankind 
We see cloud-capped, an army of the dark, 
Because of thy straight leadership declined; 
At heels of this or that delusive spark: 
Now when the multitudinous races press 
Elbow to elbow hourly more, 



odes 435 

A thickened host; when now we hear aloud 

Life for the very life implore 

A signal of a visioned mark ; 

Light of the mind, the mind's discourse, 

The rational in graciousness, 

Thee by acknowledgement enthroned, 

To tame and lead that blind-eyed force 

In harmony of harness with the crowd, 

For payment of their dues; as yet disowned, 

Save where some dutiful lone creature, vowed 

To holy work, deems it the heart's intent; 

Or where a silken circle views it cowled, 

The seeming figure of concordance, bent 

On satiating tyrant lust 

Or barren fits of sentiment. 



Thou wilt not have our paths befouled 

By simulation; are we vile to view, 

The heavens shall see us clean of our own dust, 

Beneath thy breezy flitting wing: 

They make their mirror upon faces true; 

And where they win reflection, lucid heave 

The under tides of this hot heart seen through. 

Beneficently wilt thou clip 

All oversteppings of the plumed, 

The puffed, and bid the masker strip, 

And into the crowned windbag thrust, 

Tearing the mortal from the vital thing, 

A lightning o'er the half-illumed, 

Who to base brute-dominion cleave, 



43G odes 

Yet mark effects, and shun the flash, 

Till their drowsed wits a beam conceive, 

To spy a wound without a gash, 

The magic in a turn of wrist, 

And how are wedded heart and head regaled 

"When Wit o'er Folly blows the mort, 

And their high note of union spreads 

Wide from the timely word with conquest charged ; 

Victorious laughter, of no loud report, 

If heard; derision as divinely veiled 

As terrible Immortals in rose-mist, 

Given to the vision of arrested men : 

Whereat they feel within them weave 

Community its closer threads, 

And are to our fraternal state enlarged ; 

Like warm fresh blood is their enlivened ken ; 

They learn that thou art not of alien sort, 

Speaking the tongue by vipers hissed, 

Or of the frosty heights unsealed, 

Or of the vain who simple speech distort, 

Or of the vapours pointing on to nought 

Along cold skies ; though sharp and high thy pitch : 

As when sole homeward the belated treads, 

And hears aloft a clamour wailed, 

That once had seemed the broomstick witch 

Horridly violating cloud for drought : 

He from the rub of minds dispersing fears, 

Hears migrants marshalling their midnight train; 

Homeliest order in black sky appears, 

Not less than in the lighted village steads. 

So do those half-illumed wax clear to share 



odes 437 

A cry that is our common voice ; the note 

Of fellowship upon a loftier plane, 

Above embattled castle-wall and moat ; 

And toning drops as from pure heaven it sheds. 

So thou for washing a phantasmal air, 

For thy sweet singing keynote of the wise, 

Laughter — the joy of Reason seeing fade 

Obstruction into Earth's renewing beds, 

Beneath the stroke of her good servant's blade — 

Thenceforth art as their earth-star hailed ; 

Gain of the years, conjunction's prize. 

The greater heart in thy appeal to heads, 

They see, thou Captain of our civil Fort ! 

By more elusive savages assailed 

On each ascending stage ; untired 

Both inner foe and outer to cut short, 

And blow to chaff pretenders void of grist : 

Showing old tiger's claws, old crocodile's 

Yard-grin of eager grinders, slim to sight, 

Like forms in running water, oft when smiles, 

When pearly tears, when fluent lips delight : 

But never with the slayer's malice fired : 

As little as informs an infant's fist 

Clenched at the sneeze ! Thou would'st but have us be 

Good sons of mother soil, whereby to grow 

Branching on fairer skies, one stately tree ; 

Broad of the tilth for flowering at the Court : 

Which is the tree bound fast to wave its tress ; 

Of strength controlled sheer beauty to bestow. 

Ambrosial heights of possible acquist, 

Where souls of men with soul of man consort, 



438 odes 

And all look higher to new loveliness 
Begotten of the look : thy mark is there ; 
While on our temporal ground alive, 
Eightly though fearfully thou wieldest sword, 
Of finer temper now a numbered learn 
That they resisting thee themselves resist ; 
And not thy bigger joy to smite and drive, 
Prompt the dense herd to butt, and set the snare 
Witching them into pitfalls for hoarse shouts. 
More now, and hourly more, and of the Lord 
Thou lead'st to, doth this rebel heart discern, 
When pinched ascetic and red sensualist 
Alternately recurrent freeze or burn, 
And of its old religions it has doubts. 
It fears thee less when thou hast shown it bare ; 
Less hates, part understands, nor much resents, 
When the prized objects it has raised for prayer, 
For fitful prayer ; — repentance dreading fire, 
Impelled by aches ; the blindness which repents 
Like the poor trampled worm that writhes in mire ; 
Are sounded by thee, and thou darest probe 
Old Institutions and Establishments, 
Once fortresses against the floods of sin, 
For what their worth ; and questioning!}* prod 
For why they stand upon a racing globe, 
Impeding blocks, less useful than the clod ; 
Their angel out of them, a demon in. 

This half-enlightened heart, still doomed to fret, 
To hurl at vanities, to drift in shame 
Of gain or loss, bewailing the sure rod, 



odes 439 

Shall of predestination wed thee yet. 

Something it gathers of what things shonld drop 

At entrance on new times ; of how thrice broad 

The world of minds communicative ; how 

A straggling Nature classed in school, and scored 

With stripes admonishing, may yield to plough 

Pruitfullest furrows, nor for waxing tame 

Be feeble on an Earth whose gentler crop 

Is its most living, in the mind that steers, 

By Keason led, her way of tree and flame, 

Beyond the genuflexions and the tears ; 

Upon an Earth that cannot stop, 

Where upward is the visible aim, 

And ever we espy the greater God, 

For simple pointing at a good adored : 

Proof of the closer neighbourhood. Head on, 

Sword of the many, light of the few ! untwist 

Or cut our tangles till fair space is won 

Beyond a briared wood of austere brow, 

Relieved of discord by thy timely word 

At intervals refreshing life : for thou 

Art verily Keeper of the Muse's Key ; 

Thyself no vacant melodist; 

On lower land elective even as she ; 

Holding, as she, all dissonance abhorred: 

Advising to her measured steps in flow ; 

And teaching how for being subjected free 

Past thought of freedom we may come to know 

The music of the meaning of Accord. 



YOUTH m MEMOEY 

Days, when the ball of our vision 
Had eagles that flew unabashed to sun ; 
When the grasp on the bow was decision, 
And arrow and hand and eye were one ; 
When the Pleasures, like waves to a swimmer, 
Came heaving for rapture ahead ! — 
Invoke them, they dwindle, they glimmer 
As lights over mounds of the dead. 

Behold the winged Olympus, off the mead, 

With thunder of wide pinions, lightning speed, 

Wafting the shepherd-boy through ether clear, 

To bear the golden nectar-cup. 

So flies desire at view of its delight, 

When the young heart is tiptoe perched on sight. 

We meanwhile who in hues of the sick year, 

The Spring-time paint to prick us for our lost, 

Mount but the fatal half way up, 

Whereon shut eyes ! This is decreed, 

For Age that would to youthful heavens ascend, 

By passion for the arms' possession tossed, 



ODES 441 

It falls the way of sighs and hath their end ; 
A spark gone out to more sepulchral night. 
Good if the arrowy eagle of the height, 
Be then the little bird that hops to feed. 

Lame falls the cry to kindle days 

Of radiant orb and daring gaze. 

It does but clank our mortal chain. 

For Earth reads through her felon old, 

The many-numbered of her fold, 

Who forward tottering backward strain, 

And would be thieves of treasure spent, 

With their grey season soured. 

She could write out their history in their thirst 

To have again the much devoured, 

And be the bud at burst ; 

In honey fancy join the flow, 

Where Youth swims on as once they went, 

All choiric for spontaneous glee 

Of active eager lungs and thews ; 

They now bared roots beside the river bent ; 

Whose privilege themselves to see ; 

Their place in yonder tideway know ; 

The current glass peruse ; 

The depths intently sound ; 

And sapped by each returning flood, 

Accept for monitory nourishment, 

Those worn roped features under crust of mudj 

Reflected in the silvery smooth around : 

Not less the branching and high singing tree, 

A home of nests, a landmark and a tent, 



442 odes 

Until their hour for losing hold on ground. 
Even such good harvest of the things that flee, 
Earth offers her subjected, and they choose 
Rather of Bacchic Youth one beam to drink, 
And warm slow marrow with the sensual wink. 
So block they at her source the Mother of the Muse. 

Who cheerfully the little bird becomes, 

Without a fall, and pipes for peck at crumbs, 

May have her dolings to the lightest touch ; 

As where some cripple muses by his crutch, 

Unwitting that the spirit in him sings : 

' When I had legs, then had I wings, 

As good as any born of eggs, 

To feed on all aerial things, 

When I had legs ! ' 

And if not to embrace he sighs, 

She gives him breath of Youth awhile, 

Perspective of a breezy mile, 

Companionable hedgeways, lifting skies; 

Scenes where his nested dreams upon their hoard 

Brooded, or up to empyrean soared : 

Enough to link him with a dotted line. 

But cravings for an eagle's flight, 

To top white peaks and serve wild wine 

Among the rosy undecayed, 

Bring only flash of shade 

From her full throbbing breast of day in night. 

By what they crave are they betrayed : 

And cavernous is that young dragon's jaw, 

Crimson for all the fiery reptile saw 



odes 443 

In time now coveted, for teeth to flay, 

Once more consume, were Life recurrent May. 

They to their moment of drawn breath, 

Which is the life that makes the death, 

The death that makes ethereal life would bind : 

The death that breeds the spectre do they find. 

Darkness is wedded and the waste regrets 

Beating as dead leaves on a fitful gust, 

By souls no longer dowered to climb 

Beneath their pack of dust, 

Whom envy of a lustrous prime, 

Eclipsed while yet invoked, besets, 

And dooms to sink and water sable flowers, 

That never gladdened eye or loaded bee. 

Strain we the arms for Memory's hours, 

We are the seized Persephone. 

Responsive never to the soft desire 

For one prized tune is this our chord of life. 

'T is clipped to deadness with a wanton knife, 

In wishes that for ecstasies aspire. 

Yet have we glad companionship of Youth, 

Elysian meadows for the mind, 

Dare we to face deeds done, and in our tomb 

Filled with the parti-coloured bloom 

Of loved and hated, grasp all human truth 

Sowed by us down the mazy paths behind. 

To feel that heaven must we that hell sound through : 

Whence comes a line of continuity, 

That brings our middle station into view, 

Between those poles ; a novel Earth we see, 



444 odes 

In likeness of us, made of banned and blest ; 

The sower's bed, but not the reaper's rest : 

An Earth alive with meanings, wherein meet 

Buried, and breathing, and to be. 

Then of the junction of the three, 

Even as a heart in brain, full sweet 

May sense of soul, the sum of music, beat. 



Only the soul can walk the dusty track 

Where hangs our flowering under vapours black, 

And bear to see how these pervade, obscure, 

Quench recollection of a spacious pure. 

They take phantasmal forms, divide, convolve, 

Hard at each other point and gape, 

Horrible ghosts ! in agony dissolve, 

To reappear with one they drape 

For criminal, and, Father ! shrieking name, 

Who such distorted issue did beget. 

Accept them, them and him, though hiss thy sweat 

Off brow on breast, whose furnace flame 

Has eaten, and old Self consumes. 

Out of the purification will they leap, 

Thee renovating while new light illumes 

The dusky web of evil, known as pain, 

That heavily up healthward mounts the steep ; 

Our fleshly road to beacon-fire of brain : 

Midway the tameless oceanic brute 

Below, whose heave is topped with foam for fruit, 

And the fair heaven reflecting inner peace 

On righteous warfare, that asks not to cease. 



"; 



odes 445 

Forth of such passage through black fire we win 

Clear hearing of the simple lute, 

Whereon, and not on other, Memory plays 

For them who can in quietness receive 

Her restorative airs : a ditty thin 

As note of hedgerow bird in ear of eve, 

Or wave at ebb, the shallow catching rays 

On a transparent sheet, where curves a glass 

To truer heavens than when the breaker neighs 

Loud at the plunge for bubbly wreck in roar. 

Solidity and bulk and martial brass, 

Once tyrants of the senses, faintly score 

A mark on pebbled sand or fluid slime, 

While present in the spirit, vital there, 

Are things that seemed the phantoms of their time; 

Eternal as the recurrent cloud, as air 

Imperative, refreshful as dawn-dew. 

Some evanescent hand on vapour scrawled 

Historic of the soul, and heats anew 

Its coloured lines where deeds of flesh stand bald. 

True of the man, and of mankind 't is true. 

Did we stout battle with the Shade, Despair, 

Our cowardice, it blooms ; or haply warred 

Against the primal beast in us, and flung ; 

Or cleaving mists of Sorrow, left it starred 

Above self-pity slain : or it was Prayer 

First taken for Life's cleanser ; or the tongue 

Spake for the world against this heart ; or rings 

Old laughter, from the founts of wisdom sprung ; 

Or clap of wing of joy, that was a throb 

From breast of Earth, and did no creature rob : 



446 odes 

These quickening live. But deepest at her springs, 

Most filial, is an eye to love her young. 

And had we it, still see with it, alive 

Is our lost garden, flower, bird and hive. 

Blood of her blood, aim of her aim, are then 

The green-robed and grey-crested sons of men : 

She tributary to her aged restores 

The living in the dead ; she will inspire 

Faith homelier than on the Yonder shores, 

Abhorring these as mire, 

Uncertain steps, in dimness gropes, 

With mortal tremours pricking hopes, 

And, by the final Bacchic of the lusts 

Propelled, the Bacchic of the spirit trusts : 

A fervour drunk from mystic hierophants ; 

Not utterly misled, though blindly led, 

Led round fermenting eddies. Faith she plants 

In her own firmness as our midway road : 

Which rightly Youth has read, though blindly read ; 

Her essence reading in her toothsome goad; 

Spur of bright dreams experience disenchants. 

But love we well the young, her road midway 

The darknesses runs consecrated clay. 

Despite our feeble hold on this green home, 

And the vast outer strangeness void of dome, 

Shall we be with them, of them, taught to feel, 

Up to the moment of our prostrate fall, 

The life they deem voluptuously real, 

Is more than empty echo of a call, 

Or shadow of a shade, or swing of tides ; 

As brooding upon age, when veins congeal, 



odes 447 

Grey palsy nods to think. With us for guides, 
Another step above the animal, 
To views in Alpine thought are they helped on. 
Good if so far we live in them when gone ! 

And there the arrowy eagle of the height, 

Becomes the little bird that hops to feed, 

Glad of a crumb, for tempered appetite 

To make it wholesome blood and fruitful seed. 

Then Memory strikes on no slack string, 

Nor sectional will varied Life appear : 

Perforce of soul discerned in mind, we hear 

Earth with her Onward chime, with Winter Spring. 

And ours the mellow note, while sharing joys 

No more subjecting mortals who have learnt 

To build for happiness on equipoise, 

The Pleasures read in sparks of substance burnt ; 

Know in our seasons an integral wheel, 

That rolls us to a mark may yet be willed. 

This, the truistic rubbish under heel 

Of all the world, we peck at and are filled. 



VERSES 
PENETKATION AND TEUST 



Sleek as a lizard at round of a stone, 
The look of her heart slipped out and in. 
Sweet on her lord her soft eyes shone, 
As innocents clear of a shade of sin. 

ii 

He laid a finger under her chin, 
His arm for her girdle at waist was thrown : 
Now, what will happen and who will win, 
With me in the fight and my lady lone ? 

in 

He clasped her, clasping a shape of stone ; 
Was fire on her eyes till they let him in. 
Her breast to a God of the daybeams shone, 
And never a corner for serpent sin. 

IV 

Tranced she stood, with a chattering chin ; 
Her shrunken form at his feet was thrown : 
At home to the death my lord shall win, 
When it is no tyrant who leaves me lone ! 

29 



NIGHT OF FKOST IN MAY 

With splendour of a silver day, 

A frosted night had opened May : 

And on that plumed and armoured night, 

As one close temple hove our wood, 

Its border leafage virgin white. 

Remote down air an owl hallooed. 

The black twig dropped without a twirl ; 

The bud in jewelled grasp was nipped; 

The brown leaf cracked a scorching curl ; 

A crystal off the green leaf slipped. 

Across the tracks of rimy tan, 

Some busy thread at whiles would shoot ; 

A limping minnow-rillet ran, 

To hang upon an icy foot. 

In this shrill hush of quietude, 
The ear conceived a severing cry. 
Almost it let the sound elude, 
When chuckles three, a warble shy, 
From hazels of the garden came, 
Near by the crimson-windowed farm. 
They laid the trance on breath and frame, 
A prelude of the passion-charm. 



VERSES 451 

Then soon was heard, not sooner heard 
Than answered, doubled, trebled, more, 
Voice of an Eden in the bird 
Renewing with his pipe of four 
The sob : a troubled Eden, rich 
In throb of heart : unnumbered throats 
Flung upward at a fountain's pitch, 
The fervour of the four loDg notes, 
That on the fountain's pool subside, 
Exult and ruffle and upspring : 
Endless the crossing multiplied 
Of silver and of golden string. 
There chimed a bubbled underbrew 
With witch-wild spray of vocal dew. 

It seemed a single harper swept 

Our wild wood's inner chords and waked 

A spirit that for yearning ached 

Ere men desired and joyed or wept. 

Or now a legion ravishing 

Musician rivals did unite 

In love of sweetness high to sing 

The subtle song that rivals light ; 

From breast of earth to breast of sky : 

And they were secret, they were nigh : 

A hand the magic might disperse ; 

The magic swung my universe. 

Yet sharpened breath forbade to dream, 
Where all was visionary gleam ; 
Where Seasons, as with cymbals, clashed ; 
And feelings, passing joy and woe, 



452 veiises 

Churned, gurgled, spouted, iuterflashed, 

Nor either was the one we know : 

Nor pregnant of the heart contained 

In us were they, that griefless plained, 

That plaining soared ; and through the heart 

Struck to one note the wide apart : — 

A passion surgent from despair; 

A paining bliss in fervid cold ; 

Off the last vital edge of air, 

Leap heavenward of the lofty-souled, 

For rapture of a wine of tears ; 

As had a star among the spheres 

Caught up our earth to some mid-height 

Of double life to ear and sight, 

She giving voice to thought that shines 

Keen-brilliant of her deepest mines ; 

While steely drips the rillet clinked, 

And hoar with crust the cowslip swelled. 

Then was the lyre of earth beheld, 
Then heard by me : it holds me linked; 
Across the years to dead-ebb shores 
I stand on, my blood — thrill restores. 
But would I conjure into me 
Those issue notes, I must review 
What serious breath the woodland drew ; 
The low throb of expectancy ; 
How the white mother-muteness pressed 
On leaf and meadow-herb ; how shook, 
Nigh speech of mouth, the sparkle-crest 
Seen spinning on the bracken-crook. 



THE TEACHING OF THE NUDE 



A Satyr spied a Goddess iu her bath, 

Unseen of her attendant nymphs ; none knew. 

Forthwith the creature to his fellows drew, 

And looking backward on the curtained path, 

He strove to tell ; he could but heave a breast 

Too full, and point to mouth, with failing leers : 

Vainly he danced for speech, he giggled tears, 

Made as if torn in two, as if tight pressed, 

As if cast prone; then fetching whimpered tunes 

For words, flung heel and set his hairy flight 

Through forest-hollows, over rocky height. 

The green leaves buried him three rounds of moons. 

A senatorial Satyr named what herb 

Had hurried him outrunning reason's curb. 

ii 

'T is told how when that hieaway unchecked, 
To dell returned, he seemed of tempered mood : 
Even as the valley of the torrent rude, 
The torrent now a brook, the valley wrecked. 
In him, to hale him high or hurl aheap, 
Goddess and Goatfoot hourly wrestled sore ; 
Hourly the immortal prevailing more : 



45-i VERSES 

Till one hot noon saw Meliboeus peep 

From thicket-sprays to where his full-blown dame, 

In circle by the lusty friskers gripped, 

Laughed the showered rose-leaves while her limbs were 

stripped. 
She beckoned to our Satyr, and he came. 
Then twirled she mounds of ripeness, wreath of arms. 
His hoof kicked up the clothing for such charms. 



BREATH OF THE BRIAR 



O briar-scents, on yon wet wing 
Of warm South-west wind brushing by, 
You mind me of the sweetest thing 
That ever mingled frank and shy : 
When she and I, by love enticed, 
Beneath the orchard-apples met, 
In equal halves a ripe one sliced, 
And smelt the juices ere we ate. 



ii 

That apple of the briar-scent, 
Among our lost in Britain now, 
Was green of rind, and redolent 
Of sweetness as a milking cow. 
The briar gives it back, well nigh 
The damsel with her teeth on it ; 
Her twinkle between frank and shy, 
My thirst to bite where she had bit. 



EMPEDOCLES 



He leaped. With none to hinder, 
Of Aetna's fiery scoriae 
In the next vomit-shower, made he 

A more peculiar cinder. 
And this great Doctor, can it be, 
He left no saner recipe 
For men at issue with despair ? 
Admiring, even his poet owns, 
While noting his fine lyric tones, 
The last of him was heels in air! 



ii 

Comes Reverence, her features 
Amazed to see high Wisdom hear, 
With glimmer of a faunish leer, 

One mock her pride of creatures. 
Shall such sad incident degrade 
A stature casting sunniest shade ? 
O Reverence ! let Reason swim ; 
Each life its critic deed reveals ; 
And him reads Reason at his heels, 
If heels in air the last of him ! 



TO COLONEL CHAELES 
(Dying General C.B.B.) 



An English heart, my commandant, 
A soldier's eye you have, awake 
To right and left ; with looks askant 
On bulwarks not of adamant, 
Where white our Channel waters break. 



Where Grisnez winks at Dungeness 
Across the ruffled strip of salt, 
You look, and like the prospect less. 
On men and guns would you lay stress, 
To bid the Island's foemen halt. 



in 

While loud the Year is raising cry 
At birth to know if it must bear 
In history the bloody dye, 
An English heart, a soldier's eye, 
For the old country first will care. 



458 VERSES 



IV 



And how stands she, artillerist, 

Among the vapours waxing dense, 

With cannon charged ? 'T is hist! and hist! 

And now she screws a gouty fist, 

And now she counts to clutch her pence. 



With shudders chill as aconite, 
The couchant chewer of the cud 
Will start at times in pussy fright 
Before the dogs, when reads her sprite 
The streaks predicting streams of blood. 

VI 

She thinks they may mean something ; thinks 
They may mean nothing : haply both. 
Where darkness all her daylight drinks, 
She fain would find a leader lynx, 
Not too much taxing mental sloth. 



VII 

Cleft like the fated house in twain, 
One half is, Arm ! and one, Retrench ! 
Gambetta's word on dull MacMahon : 
' The cow that sees a passing train : ' 
So spies she Russian, German, French. 



VERSES 459 



VIII 



She ? no, her weakness : she unbraced 
Among those athletes fronting storms I 
The muscles less of steel than paste, 
Why, they of nature feel distaste 
For flash, much more for push, of arms. 



IX 



The poet sings, and well know we, 
That 'iron draws men after it.' 
But towering wealth may seem the tree 
Which bears the fruit Indemnity, 
And draw as fast as battle's fit, 



If feeble be the hand on guard, 

Alas, alas ! And nations are 

Still the mad forces, though the scarred. 

Should they once deem our emblem Pard 

Wagger of tail for all save war ; — 



XI 

Mechanically screwed to flail 

His flanks by Presses conjuring fear ; — 

A money-bag with head and tail ; — 

Too late may valour then avail ! 

As you beheld, my cannonier, 



400 VERSES 

XII 

When with the staff of Benedek, 

On the plateau of Koniggratz, 

You saw below that wedgeing speck ; 

Foresaw proud Austria rammed to wreck, 

Where Chlum drove deep in smoky jets. 

February 1887. 



ENGLAND BEFORE THE STORM 



The day that is the night of days, 
With cannon-fire for sun ablaze, 
We spy from any billow's lift ; 
And England still this tidal drift ! 
Would she to sainted forethought vow 
A space before the thunders flood, 
That martyr of its hour might now 
Spare her the tears of blood. 



ii 

Asleep upon her ancient deeds, 
She hugs the vision plethora breeds, 
And counts her manifold increase 
Of treasure in the fruits of peace. 
What curse on earth's improvident, 
When the dread trumpet shatters rest, 
Is wreaked, she knows, yet smiles content 
As cradle rocked from breast. 



462 VERSES 

III 

She, impious to the Lord of Hosts, 
The valour of her offspring boasts, 
Mindless that now on land and main 
His heeded prayer is active brain. 
No more great heart may guard the home, 
Save eyed and armed and skilled to cleave 
Yon swallower wave with shroud of foam, 
We see not distant heave. 



IV 

They stand to be her sacrifice, 
The sons this mother flings like dice, 
To face the odds and brave the Fates ; 
As in those days of starry dates, 
When cannon cannon's counterblast 
Awakened, muzzle muzzle bowled, 
And high in swathe of smoke the mast 
Its fighting rag outrolled. 



TARDY SPRING 

Now the North wind ceases, 
The warm South-west awakes ; 
Swift fly the fleeces, 
Thick the blossom-flakes. 

Now hill to hill has made the stride, 
And distance waves the without end : 
Now in the breast a door flings wide ; 
Our farthest smiles, our next is friend. 
And song of England's rush of flowers 
Is this full breeze with mellow stops, 
That spins the lark for shine, for showers ; 
He drinks his hurried flight, and drops. 
The stir in memory seem these things, 
Which out of moistened turf and clay, 
Astrain for light push patient rings, 
Or leap to find the waterway. 
'T is equal to a wonder done, 
Whatever simple lives renew 
Their tricks beneath the father sun, 
As though they caught a broken clue : 
So hard was earth an eyewink back ; 
But now the common life has come, 
The blotting cloud a dappled pack, 
The Grasses one vast underhum. 



464 VERSES 

A City clothed in snow and soot, 

With lamps for day in ghostly rows, 

Breaks to the scene of hosts afoot, 

The river that reflective flows : 

And there did fog down crypts of street 

Play spectre upon eye and mouth : — 

Their faces are a glass to greet 

This magic of the whirl for South. 

A burly joy each creature swells 

With sound of its own hungry quest ; 

Earth has to fill her empty wells, 

And speed the service of the nest ; 

The phantom of the snow-wreath melt, 

That haunts the farmer's look abroad, 

Who sees what tomb a white night built, 

Where flocks now bleat and sprouts the clod. 

For iron Winter held her firm ; 

Across her sky he laid his hand ; 

And bird he starved, he stiffened worm ; 

A sightless heaven, a shaven land. 

Her shivering Spring feigned fast asleep, 

The bitten buds dared not unfold : 

We raced on roads and ice to keep 

Thought of the girl we love from cold. 

But now the North wind ceases, 
The warm South-west awakes, 
The heavens are out in fleeces, 
And earth's green banner shakes. 



EPITAPHS 



M. M. 



Who call her Mother and who calls her Wife 
Look on her grave and see not Death but Life. 



THE LADY C. M. 

To them that knew her, there is vital flame 
In these the simple letters of her name. 
To them that knew her not, be it but said, 
So strong a spirit is not of the dead. 



J. C. M. 

A fountain of our sweetest, quick to spring 
In fellowship abounding, here subsides : 
And never passage of a cloud on wing 
To gladden blue forgets him ; near he hides. 



30 



466 EPITAPHS 



ISLET THE DACHS 



Our Islet out of Helgoland, dismissed 

From his quaint tenement, quits hates and loves. 

There lived with us a wagging humourist 

In that hound's arch dwarf -legged on boxing-gloves. 



GOEDON OF KHAETOUM 

Of men he would have raised to light he fell : 
In soul he conquered with those nerveless hands. 
His country's pride and her abasement knell 
The Man of England circled by the sands. 



THE EMPEEOE FEEDEEICK OF OUE TIME 

With Alfred and St. Louis he doth win 
Grander than crowned head's mortuary dome : 
His gentle heroic manhood enters in 
The ever-flowering common heart for home. 



EPITAPHS 467 



THE YEAR'S SHEDDINGS 

The varied colours are a fitful heap : 
They pass in constant service though they sleep ; 
The self gone out of them, therewith the pain : 
Read that, who still to spell our earth remain. 



NOTES 



THEODOLINDA 



The legend of the Iron Crown of Lombardy, formed of a nail of 
the true Cross by order of the devout Queen Theodolinda, is well 
known. In this dramatic song she is seen passing through one of 
the higher temptations of the believing Christian. 



PHAETHON 
The GalUambic Measure 

Hermann (Elementa Doctrinae Metricae), after citing lines from 
the Tragic poet Phrynichus and from the Comic, observes : 

Dixi supra, Phrynichorum versus videri puros Ionicos esse. Id si 
verum est, Galliambi non alia re ab his differunt, quam quod ana- 
clasin, contractionesque et solutiones recipiunt. Itaque versus Gal- 
liarabicus ex duobus versibus Anacreonteis constat, quorum secundus 
catalecticus est, hac forma : 



/ 1 


! 


1 


1 1 1 
WW WW W 


1 1 

W WW W 


1 


1 


1 1 1 
WW W WW \J W 



The wonderful Attis of Catullus is the one classic example. A few 
lines have been gathered elsewhere. Lord Tennyson's Boadicea 
rides over many difficulties and is a noble poem. Catullus makes 
general use of the variant second of the above metrical forms : 

Mihi januae frequentes, mihi limina tepida: 

With stress on the emotion ; 

Jam, jam dolet quod egi, jam jamque poenitet. 

A perfect conquest of the measure is not possible in our tongue. 
For the sake of an occasional success in the velocity, sweep, volume 
of the line, it seems worth an effort ; and, if to some degree service- 
able for narrative verse, it is one of the exercises of a writer which 
readers may be invited to share. 



SNTANO'8 

ere & Stationer* 
ingtnn, D. C. 



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